Agnus Dei
by Horong
Summary: Chris Redfield lives with bio-terrorism & fights it with a strong sense of righteousness. But soon he encounters a new level of justice where suffering that he could conceptualise is only the tip of the iceberg. WARNING: Possible homosexual themes. (1st in Sachel In Purgatory Series)
1. Sachael

**Hello, this is Horong (duh) and I'm back on my feet. It's ironic that I'm like that when I'm in my worst flu, but I'm just bipolar like that. Let's try to continue on and hopes that it stays that way. Again, I thank you for sticking with me and appreciate your readership, wherever you are *double pointers + winks*  
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**8 October 2012  
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><p><strong>Summary:<strong> Just weeks after defeating Wesker, the same threat that hit Kijuju has hit the United States of America from the bottom of the country with a big blow. As agents in the B.S.A.A. North American branch, Chris Redfield and his newly recovered partner Jill Valentine have to respond immediately to a minor case in a secluded town in the north-east of the country before it gets out of hand. Alex Shepherd was the first person he met in the town. This mission would shake Chris's soul like never before, which he did not realize was the same the other way round.

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.  
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**To previous and new readers, Sachael In Purgatory is a SERIES now, and this story shall be called "Agnus Dei"**

**Genres: Mystery, Angst, Supernatural, Suspense, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Romance **and** Tragedy.  
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**Notes:** 'Fanwork' indeed. Truth be told, I'm embarrassed that I have written this. Yes. Embarrassed. Not because anyone forced me to, but it is on what my mind has come down to and the twisted way it thinks. So if anyone at all who had anything to do with the development of the games, I apologize first-hand that I have defiled your masterpieces. Hontou ni Gomenasai! m(_ _)m

Well, for the others, read on, I guess. It's damn long and I appreciate your attention and comments if you'll have them.

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><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 1: Sachael

Finally. They've arrived in the town where they were called to. "Shelley Valley", one big word above the other adorned the worn tile-plated welcoming sign.

Chris had to chuckle. He wasn't the comedic type, but that was one awful wordplay, and a really funny name to give to a place.

"Well, I guess the celebration over Wesker's is over. There's still the party to clean up."

Chris turned his head to Jill, eyes looking away to where his brain contemplated the tricky remark his most trusted partner just made.

"Yeah…I guess…"

He couldn't believe that just weeks after Wesker's death, the test grounds they fought in and around Kijuju were happening in here – America. The land of the free. The land of the brave.

His homeland.

After what they identified as a major source of the bio-terrorism problem – Albert Wesker, was defeated at the volcano, it was more like killing the beastmaster and letting his beasts loose than saving the world. _Maybe after Wesker's death, everything under his control has broken free and now they're down in Florida and the southern regions_, Chris thought.

Taking their bags with them, they entered the motel or an inn pre-booked for them. The place didn't have any name or sign or brand or anything of that matter to show its affiliation or the place's function, which is good in a way, because they needed their entry to the town to be as unnoticeable as possible. But something about that inn was unique though. It had a lot of blue roses on its flower plots. Jill wasn't even sure if the colour fit the inn, but it was pretty enough.

"Good evening," greeted a twenty-something young man wearing a rather dull beige coat. But it complimented the brown wooden counter he was standing behind. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Chris for whatever reason decided to look upon the other's features. Something about the man really caught his eye. He couldn't really tell what was going through his head at the moment. He turned to look at Jill and was surprised to see that Jill was pinching her chin, also scanning the man up and down. The observed subject realized what they were doing but appeared not to be uncomfortable.

"He kinds of remind me of you when you were younger…" Jill glanced to her partner and back to the man again. "Yes. I guess that's it. Don't you think so Chris?"

The moment the younger man heard it, his eyes immediately widened at the sight of Chris's large biceps. His facial expression immediately drew a loud, hearty laugh from Chris, who scratched his head in embarrassment as he did so.

"Come on, don't make a face like that!" Chris tried to calm himself down while trying to avoid the resulting awkwardness by looking at Jill.

She spared him a quick look and went on to tease the younger man with a playful alluring gaze. "Only that he's more gorgeous than you."

"Hey!" Chris made a face and chuckled.

Before Chris could protest any further, a door opened and a voice called for their attention.

"Welcome to the Shelley's Inn, people. You must be Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine?"

"Yes, sir. You must be the one who requested our aid?" Chris held out his hand to the mature black man who greeted them.

"Yes, thanks for coming," the older man shook their hands firmly. "Name's Wheeler. Deputy Sherriff round this region. Never thought that I'd be requesting from the _government _for this, but you two look honest enough."

Jill and Chris turned to look at each other, confused. "Ahh forget it. It'll take forever to explain these things, and even harder to convince you. So let's get to business then, 'cause this is serious. Or it's going be. At least you've arrived fast enough and I thank you for that."

"We're from the North American branch of the B.S.A.A. It's only natural we arrive speedily in a northern region sir, we're sorry for the numbers though. But I assure you it's enough to handle the task at hand," Chris replied.

"No, don't worry about it; it's perfect," said Wheeler. "This few people are perfect to avoid panic of the townsfolk."

"In the report you said you were sure that it was the Las Plagas?" Jill questioned.

"Damn sure, my lady," the deputy shook his head, talking quickly. "Never seen anything like it. I mean, I've seen a lot of monsters in my life but not such as this. They were so human!"

"Now you know what we're up against. How did you find out they were monsters then?" Chris asked.

Motioning his head to the man at the counter, he said: "Happened about more than a week ago. My boy right there shot this man who was grappling me. Headshot and the brains busted. A freaking four-leaf clover of meat popped out of the neck shrieking and then the whole body disintegrated! Shiiit. And just when I thought for once I could collect evidence!"

Chris nodded. "Then it is confirmed then. Glad some Americans are paying attention to what we're doing."

"Hey, that's just me. I'm not a person to trust widely spread news. It's the uncommon information that's got my interest. Let's hope that this trait that got me called a conspiracy theorist and a nut would help save the country. Or this town…or the neighbouring one, anyway."

"You encountered only one?"

"Yes, soldier. But I'm paranoid enough with only one. If they're all in South, what's a zombie doing far up in the north-east here in Maine? Sounds like either the south is a diversion or someone's taking the opportunity of the chaos to brew something up here."

Chris and Wheeler exchanged information anxiously. It was certain that he'll have to find out if there's more. And if there were more of these infected, Chris had to stay longer to find out why.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Jill tapped the man behind the counter who has been quiet for the duration of the conversation. The man snapped from what seemed to be a daze.

"Uh-…huh? I'm sorry."

"Are you alright?" Jill asked with caution, almost as if she was trying not to injure the man.

"Oh, him," Deputy Wheeler's voice grew softer. "Sorry, you two. He's had it pretty hard." He cleared his throat. "Come on, let's go to the office to discuss the case. And hey, Alex."

"Yeah?"

"You should go rest now. You've even prepared their rooms so I don't see the reason for you to stay up."

The man named Alex nodded lightly. "Alright," He turned to face the visitors. "If you need any help though-" He stopped at these words when his sight landed on Chris. Immediately focusing on Jill, he continued: "I mean, if there's anything, I'll be in Room 602-"

"Alright already, boy! Get up there already! Haven't you done enough?" Wheeler shooed.

"Okay okay." Alex popped up the stairs like a child escaping playfully from his spanking; just without the "I'm busted" expression. "Goodnight, Deputy…and thanks. You know, for everything."

"It's Wheeler! Now go sleep already, boy!" The Deputy put his hands on his hips. The slightly startled man scurried up the stairs. Jill snorted with the chuckle she tried to hard hold in. "He's just too adorable," Jill giggled with her hand clasping on her mouth. Chris thought he looked like a frightened puppy. He wondered if Jill thought the same.

Deputy Wheeler shook his head and chuckled with a mix of satisfaction and frustration. "Let's go to the office."

Upon entering the room, Jill commented with curiosity and surprise: "Seriously?" The sixth floor? By the stairs?"

Chris came into realization of Jill's observation. "Hey, you're right. He's going to walk all six floors? Isn't the elevator in the lobby working?"

"Trust me, the elevators work just fine. But you won't need them much since you live in the second floor, and that boy just has this fear of riding them elevators." Deputy Wheeler shook his head. "Wonder what's wrong with his head. There, please make yourselves comfortable."

"I mean, sorry for being nosy and out of topic Deputy, but…" Jill said as they all sat on the sofas. "Is he really alright? I mean…he looked really…how do I put it…"

"Sad?" Chris suggested. Jill nodded in surprise. "Well I'm not the one to discuss about stuff like feelings and emotions, but I guess everybody could see that when you shook him."

"I just touched him, Chris." Jill made her statement matter-of-factly.

"Alright, alright. I'm not accusing you of having an interest in him!" Chris laughed.

"Hey!"

Deputy Wheeler chuckled. "Well, I have to apologize to you both. As I said, he's gotten it pretty hard."

"And as I said, he has more gorgeous looks than you," Jill again teased by eyeing Chris with a smirk for a split second and asking the Deputy a question before Chris could protest: "He's not bad, Deputy. What's his name?"

"Just call me Wheeler if you want to. There's no need to be so formal if you don't feel like it," the man lighted a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly - just like a huge sigh. Chris couldn't help but feel that he could respect the police officer not only as a man on faithful duty, but also as a human being. He could tell that the African-American genuinely cared for the counter guy. And that counter guy…Alex, was it? Him? Well…he just looked…

…sad. There were just no other words to describe it. Well, maybe 'tired'. He didn't look very spirited. No biggie there. He just shot a man dead and witnessed a monster popping out right in front of him, after all. And Alex's face when Chris saw him greeting them on their arrival was deeply etched into his memory. That look in his eyes…He's a good guy, Chris thought. He could just feel it. It's a man's thing. But there is just something about Alex that he couldn't put into words. There is something unique about how Alex carries himself and the aura around the guy. But what was it? He was curious to know, because that man's gaze is eye-catching. Every time when their sight connected it was striking…How could he put it…It was like something struck him and made him uneasy…Whatever that means.

The Deputy let out another sigh; this time more of relief from the cigarette, as he put it down. "That fine young man," Wheeler finally responded as Jill and Chris sat quietly with interest. "Is Alex Shepherd. And he's joining us in our operation."

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

Dear **Silent-Sarcasm** – I have nothing to say to you, 'thankyou' is not even enough. I'm sorry and thanks.

Dear **TP** – Yes, I've been doing it again and now I'm very satisfied with what I have but it's not on paper yet, I hope you've been good, bro! Doing great, I mean.

Dear er…**Lurker** – The story now in FF is practically useless and out of place from what I'm about to edit. But on the pairing inspiration part I think I can answer you that. It HAS a lot of potential, and I just screwed it (lol). I think even you can feel that. WeskerChris is kind of old and I'd prefer more JoshAlex than the other way around. And incest is not really my turn-on point so there.

Oh, yes. The inspiration part. To me, well. Let's say differences and ironies turn me on a lot (by this I just mean I like it. Damn I use this term a lot); it is real life and no one seems to be aware of it. They are like representations of my own life. It's hard to explain, but it means a lot to me, that's why I don't stop editing until the intended story is out. Back to topic, it's like the both of the pair thought that the other is all what they are not and what they never will be, and you can't argue with that, because in surface and in the complete opposites of their behaviour that is very true.

But they are more alike than they think, and more fitting with each other like a key into the lock than they think, and it's because the one has what the other doesn't.

I hope nothing leaves residual doubts here. Thankyou.


	2. Confessions: Mind

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.**

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><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 2: Confessions - Mind

"He's joining us for the investigation? I guess that's fine," Jill agreed.

"No, he can't."

The sudden contradicting comment was followed by a dead silence and startled looks were directed to the culprit. Chris was seen covering his mouth after his quick interjection.

Wheeler decided to break the ice. "That's interesting, Chris. Why do you think that?"

"Er…Well…" _Oh crap, I can't believe I let loose something like that_. Chris stuttered: "He doesn't seem so…so sure of himself?"

"Well, I'm sure he looks gentle, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he's. Not. Tough!" Jill reached across the single sofa to the other to elbow Chris in the arm, making sure that the last words, although hushed; were sharp and clear. With a slight hiss of pain, Chris got the point and immediately apologized. "Sorry, sir. I'm not trying to be rude or anything."

"Um, yeah. Besides, since the Deputy has recommended Alex himself so I reckon that he's capable," Another nudge with the elbow. "_Right_, Chris?"

"Well, I hope you're right," Wheeler smiled. "And I hope my judgement is right on this. Alex has gone through life-and-death situations. He fights good. He's got his father's soldier genes alright. Besides, that boy's volunteered to help."

"He volunteered?" Chris's lips unconsciously let loose the question, although he was more interested on Alex's military past.

"Yup. Even asked him again and again if he was sure." Wheeler crossed his fingers, deep in almost a nostalgic contemplation. "I have to mention another thing; I've grown to love the kid like my own. I'll dare not forsake this wish."

"This wish?" Jill asked. "Why this? What's so special about this mission that he wants to join so much?"

Wheeler let out a slight sigh. "Maybe he wants to make up for something? Anyone who acts like that must be. But I'll say it again. That kid's gone through much. But then someone's gonna interrogate him for details, B.S.A.A. style! No one tells me nothing." The two agents laughed.

As Jill and Wheeler chatted the night away, Chris, who occasionally smiled with their jokes, was deep in thought.

'Humble' would be the word. Jill was spot-on when she said 'gentle', because that man seemed very peace-loving. But it has also been some time since he's seen another soldier having such low morale….or self-esteem for that matter; he could tell by his body language. For a soldier there is little use for words in battle. All a soldier needs is a comrade like Jill. A grunt, a nod, a wave was enough to mean even life and death; having Jill understanding almost every signal he puts out makes her the perfect partner for any mission. To Chris, it was like having found the Holy Grail…whatever people say that is. It's more than body language – it is that special frequency that connects two people, and there is no need for reason to know how it works; no one even knows _how_ it works. Glancing over to Jill, he was glad that he had her. He's even gladder that she's alive and well, albeit her lighter skin tone, eye colour and hair shade.

Seeing her changed appearance was enough to motivate Chris to another level – Nothing would hurt his companions anymore; he would make sure of that personally. That's one of the main reasons he came to this region rather than the southern outbreak where the major action was going on; it was because Jill insisted to come, and Chris felt obliged to follow her instead. No. He wasn't going to lose her again.

"Chris?"

Chris turned to look at Jill. "Chris you seemed pretty serious there."

It was then that he realized that he had furrowed his brows so hard and so long that they hurt. He also became aware of the embarrassing position he was in: sitting with his head rested on his fisted hand like a statue or two that he remembered seeing in his travels around the country, not that he was doing otherwise anyway.

"Sorry, Deputy Wheeler. Just…uh- thinking about the mission." Oh great. He was being rude yet again. If he could right then and there, he would have slapped his hands against his cheeks. _I need to focus_, Chris thought. "Oh shit!" Wheeler slapped his palms together. "We've talked for so long that I forgot to fill you in on the details!"

"It's okay," Jill assured. "It's an investigation anyway so the real information comes then."

"You're quite right there, but still…" Wheeler shrugged in embarrassment. "You know what, I'm being damn rude for keeping you awake talking about nothing in particular; you must be tired. Here are your keys. I'll brief you tomorrow when we leave at nine sharp. So be sure to come down for breakfast at eight."

"Thanks," Jill stood up and took the keys, marked 205 and 207. "The pleasure's all ours. Goodnight."

"What's wrong with Room 206?" Chris looked over Jill's shoulder at the keys. Jill elbowed him lightly. "Oof!"

"What's with one room apart being a problem? Scared that I'll be waking you up from nightmares slower because of the extra running distance of one more room?"

"Oh come on," Chris chuckled. Deputy Wheeler explained: "Because we'll be doing this together, we'll live closer to each other. Alex used to live in 206, but he's been living upstairs for the psychologist at the sixth floor."

"Why can't he just come down?" Jill asked.

"Oh, that guy has a daughter. She loves a high view." Wheeler scratched his neck. "So what can I do? Alex should just get over himself and take the elevator. He's just lucky that this inn has only six floors."

"I see," said Chris, trying hard not to show any empathic expression on the information he had just attained. "Goodnight, Deputy. See you tomorrow."

The police officer nodded. The two turned to leave the office and rode the elevator to the second floor with their heavy bags. They both bid each other a quick goodnight and went into their rooms.

Chris entered Room 207 and heaved a big sigh, plopping down the bed with a big human T. In his head he was grumbling.

No wonder he didn't seem normal to him - It's because he just wasn't normal. A psychologist!? Great guns, and now he's going to join them!?

_You must be kidding me…_

Low self esteem is bad enough. A mentally ill nutjob? One like that can NEVER go to the battlefield. But how could he have objected after everything was settled and having the Deputy pouring his heart out on allowing Alex to join? The night in the office was more of the Deputy's P.R. work for Alex's membership than of the mission briefing. It was so obvious that he let the psychologist information slip out the last so that they would be less likely to pay attention to Alex's state of mind. After all, the mission's more important, right?

_Hmph, won't work on me buddy. Not on me. _Chris thought. _That man was smart, I'll give him that. _

Yes: truth be told Chris was angry. Yet he couldn't bring himself to hate Wheeler for that.

But with Wesker's death, things should die down after the outbreak is defeated, like rampaging beasts without their master's orders…It shouldn't be that hard. And he'd agree with Wheeler. People that went through something enough to volunteer for a dangerous mission is surely trying make up for something…whatever that might be. But more importantly, maybe it's _this_ kind of people would be very efficient fighters because they don't care about their lives. It's a very grim and even a cruel thing to think of, but maybe letting Alex join wouldn't be so bad.

Maybe he could allow this…

…just this once.

_Man, I've really gotten so much softer since Wesker's death…_

As his eyelids gave away to sleep, Chris couldn't help but turn his head sideways where his nose almost nudged the bed sheets. He inhaled deeply that new smell that he so loved before allowing his body to relax.

_That's nice. Smells like fresh-misted water in the dawning sun._

_…whatever that means._

With a smile, Chris Redfield slept deeply like he hadn't in a long time.

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><p>"Alright Alex," A surprisingly calm voice unbefitting the atmosphere called for his name. "Alex. Now Alex, listen to me."<p>

"I-I am, sir," a shivering voice responded.

"No, you are not, Alex. You are only telling me what you think I want to hear," a palm touched the cheek and proceeded to wipe the sweaty forehead.

"Uh…" Alex's closed eyes shuddered where the fingers brushed past them.

"Alex. Stop trying to be brave. Alex. Alex – listen to me. Don't. Be. Brave. Urgh…how do I pound this into you...," Looking down at his shivering subject, the man shuffled up and down beside the horizontal chair where Alex was laying on.

"Alex. Alex. Come back to me, Alex. Alex," the voice was still very calm, but with tension. "Alex. Tell me if you are strong enough to do this."

Taking in short breaths, Alex's response sounded like a combination of a gurgle and a grunt of confirmation. The other man nodded in affirmation and walked to a wooden chair a distance away, where he sat himself down with a creak.

"Alright, breathe in as long as you need," The subject tried to do as told, and started to calm down. After a few minutes, Alex let out something between an exhalation of breath and a moan.

"Alright," Holding up a piece of paper, knowing perfectly well that Alex had his eyes closed and the room, dark. He continued: "You drew this. You have explained well your sorrows and worries, your grief and your guilt. Now tell me: What is his name?"

"…"

The one sitting on the chair waited patiently for a comprehensible response.

"Not…"

"It's…everyone. Why? It's him…Not me…It's her. Guilty too. It's not me…? Maybe. Perhaps," Alex's head thrashed lightly from the left side to the right. "It's…me…? OH God!..."

"Alex, stay with me, Alex."

"Oh God it's dead – OH MY- FUCK no - IT'S ALIVE!...Of course it is…No, no, no, no, it's not moving! No…wait…No…stop…!" Alex's frantic expressions turned to desperate pleadings. "No…"

"No…"

"…"

"Alex."

"…"

"Why do you describe it that way? Because it is a…?"

"…Schism."

"Alright Alex," satisfaction was heard in the voice. "You have done well."

"…no…I have…not…" taking shallower breaths, Alex's answer quivered once more. "…I'm sorry, sir! I…!"

"Alex, I need you to come back," the tone of voice was firm as ever. But Alex's torso started to rise from its rest again. "Alex, Alex; I need you to come back. Now."

As Alex's brows begin to furrow, the voice that guided him became louder.

"Now Alex, as I count down to one, you **will **come out of everything you are in."

"Three!"

Alex's body began jerking, his breaths getting shorter and laboured.

"Two."

Alex's fingers flew off its grip as if reacting to the number. It was then the arms realized that they were strapped in place and they began to claw about and struggle. His mouth opened to scream but only a frantic breathless voice barely escaped his locked throat.

"…one."

Then everything stopped.

Only laboured breathing and the ticking of a clock beside the seated figure echoed in the dark room.

After what seemed like ten minutes, the man sighed, got up and went towards Alex, whose respiration rate had returned to normal.

Hands reached out to unwind Alex's fingers, which are still stuck in a clawed position. He gave a soft smile.

"I find you…very intriguing, Alex…"

The lying figure shuddered to the name.

"…very intriguing indeed."

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	3. Uncertainty

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.**

* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 3: Uncertainty

"Good morning, this is your wake up call. It is now 8 o' clock."

"Graaaaahh!" Chris yawned and stretched his limbs. That hit the spot.

Chris should thank that bulky old-fashioned air conditioner that misted the room like mountain air. Also the covers that were freshly cleaned. He also appreciated how the room had a washing machine that washes and dries. It was like a mini apartment, with everything available for a comfortable living.

Chris changed his clothes, finishing by throwing on the light-coloured jacket that he wore to Africa. After all, the summer here is as good as Africa's glaring sun. Finally, he pocketed his custom Beretta 92F/FS into the coat; he got pockets sewn into his favourite clothing. _No more other guys preparing weapons for us_, Chris mused as the scene of Reynard Fisher's execution flashed before his eyes yet another time. Of course being in a field like this guarantees a certain percentage of death, but he couldn't help but recall the sadness and the pain that it brings when it happens. And not forgetting to mention the time period where he lost Jill…

Chris closed the door to his room and locked it. The lobby's dining hall was alive with people having their breakfast. Chris looked around and saw a table where Wheeler and Alex were. It was obvious; Wheeler had his smart police uniform on and Alex still wore the old military jacket from yesterday. They noticed Chris and Wheeler waved Chris over. Chris waved back, but most of his attention was on Alex who was politely giving attention as well. _That Alex sure gives kind of an attention-grabbing stare when he looks at you._ But he was looking forward to the mission briefing more than anything; he will focus today. _Focus, focus…It's a mission…it's a damn mission…_

"Morning, soldier!" Chris saluted cheerfully. Alex looked surprised. A little boy cheered at the loud greeting Chris gave. A few people giggled and laughed while others looked.

_SHIT!?_ Chris froze. _I screwed up!?_

Wait. Wasn't Alex a soldier anyway? Wheeler said something about that yesterday. But the stares that the people around them gave _were_ a little embarrassing though. _Damn, I must be blushing now. _Chris thought as his face felt like a gazillion stings poking it. He did felt a bit sorry when he saw Alex hanging his head down in embarrassment, hands neatly placed on his lap.

All in all, he didn't understand his actions OR his reactions to things. A simple "good morning" would suffice as a greeting; why did he act by awkward saluting Alex? Then why did he feel ashamed when Alex **was **a soldier anyway?

A slap to the shoulder made Chris jump right back into reality.

"Whoa!" It was Jill. "I never knew you would be startled like that! Sorry." She sat herself down. "Why the awkward silence?"

"I don't know," Wheeler laughed. "But they're fun to watch!"

"Chris, come and sit," Jill glanced from Chris to Alex, then back again. "You're being weird."

"Right," Chris sat opposite Wheeler, and Wheeler began the briefing.

"Let's get to business."

* * *

><p>"That meatloaf was amazing!" Jill praised while they exited the inn.<p>

"It wasn't that great…"

"Not so great for the one who ate dozens of them."

"Hey, cut that out Jill! You know a soldier need calories!"

"Yeah right. But all you need is more steroids."

"Heeey!"

Wheeler laughed along as the B.S.A.A. agents kept teasing each other. Alex on the other hand was dead quiet.

"What's the matter, Alex?" asked Wheeler, still half-wheezing from his laughter earlier.

"Nothing, Wheeler. It's just…the doctor told me not to do anything psychologically- I mean the doctor told me not do anything today. I think I'm just about to disobey that order." Alex looked really worried.

"Bullshit!" Wheeler swung his arm over Alex's shoulder. "If he knew what we went through together, I'd bet that man would piss his undies like a coward! Trust me, okay?"

Alex hesitated, but looked up at the Deputy: "…alright, Wheeler…Thanks."

The group went ahead to Wheeler's police car. Wheeler waved to the Chief Sheriff and drove on to their destination: Blake's Lake.

"Seriously? Either the towns around here have namers with a terrible sense of humour or this is just some awfully funny coincidence," Chris remarked. "Well, coincidence or not, at least its name is justified." Wheeler, who just got out of his car pointed at a beautiful and calm lake. "That, my friend, is Toluca Lake. An attraction to many tourists. Many towns are built beside it. And this town's founder happens to be surnamed Blake."

Jill gasped at the sight. It was one of the cleanest waters she had ever seen. Indeed it was a beautiful work of nature, but Chris's mind was for the first time since his arrival thinking about the mission. This was a place too peaceful and beautiful to be destroyed. Too bad there is a case of Las Plagas in this paradise-like place. It's just too unfortunate that it had to be here.

It was in Blake's Lake that Deputy Wheeler encountered a man who attacked him furiously with an axe and a gun. Alex who was with him that day had to shoot him when the man shouted incoherent things while almost opening fire point-blank into the Deputy's head. It was fortunate that Wheeler knew about the Las Plagas through his research on not-so-popular news, and Jill was alert to brewing trouble and came to Maine before Sherlock Holmes can say "A-hah!".

_Guess all the Umbrella conspiracy rubbed into her_. Chris took in a deep breath and exhaled it with satisfaction. The air was good. Very good. He just hoped that Jill's instincts or the eventual Las Plagas outbreak here were true. Not that he wished for an outbreak in this nice little town, but hope for the best and work for the rest, he'd always say. Besides, if it turned out to be no epidemic in the place, Chris would immediately respond to the outbreak in the country's southern region.

So now their mission briefing was to go to this (yet another) weirdly named town to investigate what's going on here – if that was the only one infected or is there more that they have to…exterminate.

_Killing my fellow countrymen…I've never thought of this. _Chris mused sadly as he felt his gun in his jacket pocket. He had blew off giant B.O.W.s into smithereens, blasted zombies' brains open, and even killed living people; although infected and not themselves anymore, they looked so human. But Chris had never imagined shooting a charging American in the face, or if the outbreak would even reach America for that matter.

But deep down, Chris knew…if there was one Majini…

…even if there were no others around, one zombie suddenly popping up in a town at the northern part of the country to set the worry meter up high – Why was it there in the first place? They may have come from the south to this area. After all, Type 2 Plaga-infested people _do_ exhibit intelligence.

"Let's ask around then," Wheeler started. "I'll ask this town's sheriff personally to see if they're strange going-ons. Alex will show you around."

Chris nodded: "Of course. Let's get started then."

The deputy shrugged: "You know, I need to thank you again. I can't do this alone and the other people don't believe me enough to help me."

"Trust me, we understand. And thanks to the complications on our side, the people don't trust us that much either." Jill clamped her palms together. "Alright, let's do this! Good luck and stay safe."

"Yeah, good luck y'all" Wheeler bid goodbye.

"…so, you're going to show us around?" Chris turned to Alex.

"…Yeah, maybe I should take you where it all happened," Alex immediately motioned his head to the direction of the playground as he answered.

_He's avoiding eye contact with me…what's with him?_ Chris could not decide if he was more annoyed or curious at Alex's continuous behaviour towards him or at how Jill seemed to grow fond of this guy with that kind of attitude in such a short time.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	4. Chased

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk. **

* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgutory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 4: Chased

Alex started walking away from the police station. The agents followed. "This town is founded by someone who hates…" Alex paused for a while to think. "…colour-bullying." "Colour-bullying?" Jill tittered while Alex became red in embarrassment.

"Um…you know, like…bullying people like Wheeler?"

Jill had to laugh out; Alex genuinely looked like he didn't know the word. "Racism?" Chris suggested. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I can't seem to remember that word somehow." Alex immediately looked away, blushing heavily in the ears. Jill let out another loud laugh, making Alex go even redder.

Chris cringed. He stopped dead at his tracks. Something seemed awfully familiar. Alex, for whatever reason, also stopped; looking around him as if he heard something.

"Hey, Alex?"

"…yes?"

"You noticed something too?"

Jill stood silently, looking around at the townsfolk and the town, noticing nothing. "Stop it you two, you're scaring me. Is something wrong?"

"Shh," Chris brought his finger to his lips. "It's quiet…too quiet…"

"You know what? Let's walk on." Jill approached Alex cautiously. "Keep the tour going; I think we're getting to somewhere here."

"Good idea," Chris started walking as Alex continued on.

"…this is the Town Hall. It's built on top of the founder's grave. The cemetery is just beside the Town Hall. The-" A howl echoed through the sky. "…the founder of this town rejected many common religious beliefs and-" A snarl and bark echoed all around them. "…his views were shocking for his day, and so by building the Town Hall over and beside a cemetery, he mocks the common views on death."

"Kinda' complicated," Chris felt his gun. "But no time to understand it now."

"I'm not very familiar with this town, but these are the main things, at least. Maybe I should take you to the place where it all happened instead. It's very near the police station actually. Near the forest-"

A muffled scream rang in Chris' ears. Chris drew his gun with lightning speed and pointed to the voice's origin - Jill.

"Wha-?" It didn't take Chris another second to see a kidnapper with a human mask over his head cupping his big covered hands over Jill's mouth.

"Ha!" The female B.S.A.A. agent elbowed the man and with her swift reflexes, locked the now captive captor's arm behind him while she stood behind him. The pedestrians were alarmed for a second by the sound but went on their business after they couldn't determine where the sound came from. Jill let out a sigh in relief while the man grunted in pain. "So much for trying to avoid panic."

"Look buddy, why did you do that?" Alex sounded upset.

"Look, _buddy_, come with me to the Blake Hotel; there's no time!" The man sounded angry and frantic at the same time.

"Oh yeah? I've got time to do this!" Chris proceeded to rip off the disguise.

"NO!"

Immediately after Chris took off the mask from his head, it revealed an African-American man who yelled his protest. Without delay, he then hid his face and grabbed Alex roughly by the hand. "Cover me man, cover me," his voice was as frightened as a man facing his execution.

"Look, we'll do whatever you want, okay? J-just tell us what's going on here," Alex didn't struggle free, but was very uncomfortable. Before Chris could interrupt, Alex turned to him: "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but I think we need that mask…even if it's to calm him down." Chris hesitated, but the explanation seemed reasonable enough. Slowly and cautiously, he handed over the Caucasian mask he snatched earlier to the black man.

Just then a scream sounded. Then another. And then another shriek by a moustached man. A gruff laugh then a woman cheering and shouting without any regard for modesty.

The nightmare Chris Redfield dreaded has come true, only that it was worse; this time he could understand them. _Should I laugh? Should I cry? If this is a stage show, someone might._ Chris hung his whole frame down dispiritedly. The whole town charged towards their direction, yelling only one thing:

"NEGRO!"

_Shit? God-damnit? I wonder what I'm going to use to curse._

_If there's someone out there, they'd better be laughing; cause' this is the joke of the century._

** _BANG_ **

"I'll make sure the joke's on you now, not the B.S.A.A!" a smile tugged the end of Chris's lips as his handgun's barrel smoked. Tricell's scheme on global domination made the other funders cease their support and the B.S.A.A. a joke to the common, and mostly, ignorant folk. The shot disabled a woman's leg as she fell face-first in the dirt.

"Quick draw as usual," Jill kicked down her former assailant. "But with those muscles you would think they'll be talking about drawing a broadsword." Unsheathing her handgun from her thigh strap, she nodded to Chris: "Got you covered, partner"

"As always." Chris snorted at Jill's remark that he just did not have the time to reply to. "To the nearest building! Let's move!"

* * *

><p>"Move, move it!"<p>

"Right!" Alex helped the stunned black man up. "Come on, let's go!"

Jill ran ahead of the unarmed men, clearing a path by kicking a fat man flat in the face. As their attacks increased, so did the townspeople's rage by ten-fold. They ran until the mob became a lesser beeline behind them instead of a wall of people with power and numbers. "The nearest building!" Chris directed. "Go!"

"This should do the trick!" Jill threw a flash grenade into the mob and the other two took the opportunity of the confusion to open the door of a house. The agents followed. Alex was ready with a chair to barricade the door. "Good job, soldier." Chris panted. "T-thanks," Alex handed Chris another heavy chair to add weight to the resistance they were building.

As effect of the grenade subsided, the crowd slowly but surely started to disperse, losing sights of their targets. In the house, the curtains were drawn and the only natural light source was from the top of the roof high above. In an instant the room became bright. Chris looked around to see the black man earlier turning on a switch which lighted up all the wall lamps in the spacious room.

Alex came up to Jill. "Are you hurt?" Jill, a bit taken aback by Alex's approach, stood stunned for a few seconds before answering: "Yes, thankyou…" Alex, looking concerned and with admiration at Jill at the same time, answered: "I'm glad. I've never seen anyone let alone any woman move like that. That was amazing." Jill smiled at the compliment. She was also glad to see the look of Alex's now slightly spirited face.

They were interrupted by a frightened cry from the black man. "Yo, man. Down with the guns, man!" Chris, as alert as ever, was securing the man's position by pointing his trusty handgun at him. "Alright. I know you're not one of the infected one out there, but tell me what's going on."

"Yo! I'm not talkin' to you or anyone about anythin' if you point that sucker at me. I tell you you take that gun and put em' down, right now!" The man held up his hands in apprehension. Chris, refusing to back down, held his stance.

The room froze in silence. For a time or two, the thump on the locked and barricaded door made them jump; it was the most likely the townsfolk's less aggressive attempt to look for them.

After what seemed like five minutes later, Alex cautiously approached Chris and pressed Chris' arm. Chris, jumping a bit, turned to the person who touched him. In the corner of his eye, he saw Alex intently looking at him in the eye.

For the first time, he got an eye contact from the man who just simply refused to look at him. And he did just the opposite for a stranger whose life is (supposedly) threatened.

It was brief, but that'll do.

With a quick sigh, he lowered his handgun and half-glared at the black man. "So what's going on here?" The man shrugged at Chris hesitantly. Chris ran out on petty patience. "Look, you got saved by this guy over here because he looked at me in the eye for the first time in my life for me to put my gun down. Now tell me what the Hell's going on here before I run out of patience!"

"Alright," the black man calmed down. "Look, these past few days have been crazy! I saw you with another black guy comin' into town. That's why I had to nab you to talk to you. I'm sorry!"

"Go on," Jill listened attentively.

"These past few days...I don't know what's going on but those whiteys out there are lynching us blacks like crazy!"

Chris, shocked, turned to Alex. "I thought you said this town was exactly opposite of what he said it is…Unless…" Alex turned sharply to the black man.

"Hey, did the citizens have reddish-orange eyes?"

The black man had his mouth gaped open at them like they were totally crazy.

Chris and Jill's heartbeat stopped when the frantic man threw his arms in the air, exclaiming.

"What reddish-orange eyes!?"

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	5. Doubt

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.**

* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 5: Doubt

"Wha…what did you just say?" Chris's fiery aggressiveness dropped dead cold at the black man's answer.

"What reddish-orange eyes!? You crazy!? And I thought they were crazy enough!"

"What…?" Chris froze. He and Jill exchange frantic looks. "We shot living people…?" Jill's shoulders dropped. Alex was just looking back and forth between them, confused but understanding; he kept his mouth shut.

"Hell, it's better that they're killed than later! Ya' blind!? Didn't you see what they did, or almost did to us!?" The black man yelled.

"You must be mistaken. They should be the infected." Chris shuffled back and forth. "They should be."

The main issue is not whether they shot in self-defence; it was more on the realization of another possibility other than the infestation. He was so sure it was Las Plagas-infected people. He was _so_ sure…

"But why are they doing this?" Jill sat on a table, rubbing her temple in despair.

"Since that stupid guy came to town…Too bad ain't Santa!" The guy mumbled.

Alex winced at the man's words. "W-what guy?"

"Well, ask them if you want!" The annoyed man showed Alex the entrance where the mob once was. "All I know is that them strange guys came from outta town demanding to find someone. And when the town couldn't find em' them whites started to kill us blacks. It's those guys' faults! It must be them tellin' them folks to kill us! My nana moved here because of the anti-racist thing and there's no problem until now!"

"You sure their eyes weren't orange or red in colour." Chris wanted to make sure.

"Damn Hell I'm sure!" The man sounded firm. "But their crazed look is somethin' I'll never forget. Never." The man muttered, shaking his head. "So what's with this crazy eye colour shit? No one tells me nothin'."

"Oh God, Wheeler!" Alex, who came into realization at the Deputy's familiar catchphrase suddenly jumped from his seat. "NO!" Chris grappled his arms from behind with lightning speed.

"What are you doing!?" The two were slightly surprised when they found that they asked the same thing at the same time. "Well, I'm stopping you!" Chris held on even firmly. Alex took hold of Chris's hands, still trying to break off. "And I'm going to Wheeler! They're targeting people like Wheeler, right!? Get. Off!"

"Stop it, all of you!" Jill interrupted loudly.

The whole room went quiet. All three men fixed their eyes on Jill. The black man put his hands up in the air again. Chris still didn't let go.

"Chris," Jill sounded collected when saying that, if not sombre. "Let Alex go."

"What!?" Chris was bewildered. This was the most unacceptable thing he heard her say since the time where she forced him to leave her behind at the Monarch Room to pursue Wesker. "You're asking me to send him to die!?"

"Alex's a soldier," Jill retorted. "He has to get to the Deputy himself if he wishes. We'll help the survivors get out."

Chris shrugged."…"

"...No. I'd trust myself leaving you alone rather than him, but I wouldn't do it either."

"Chris…"

"Look," the black man suggested. "I think it's suicide for you to go save your friend, but… They only target us blacks. It may be O.K. if you leave unnoticed. I'm just saying _maybe_."

"And that might just work if he's not recognized." Chris moved his hands to Alex's chest and found what he was looking for.

"H-hey! What are you doing?"

Chris had begun undoing Alex's jacket. "Poor Alex." Jill had to giggle at Alex's reaction.

"Hey, wha-what are you doing?" Alex repeated his question while trying to struggle free. At that point his jacket was already half-stripped and at his arms, making his escaping attempts impossible. "They might've recognized us earlier. Your black shirt is strikingly different from your worn brown jacket. It'll reduce the chances."

"B-but-, w-wait!" Alex glanced behind him; Chris stopped. "What is it?"

"P-promise you'll bring it back to me. It's important…very important to me."

It was a weird request not befitting the situation, but Chris obliged. "Okay...Just promise you'll stay safe out there…okay soldier?"

As Alex was out of his jacket, Alex turned around to look at Chris with gratitude in his eyes. "Alright. Thanks."

What remained was his trusty black T-shirt and his silvery dog tags jingling around his neck. Chris had to smile. Alex looked considerably younger without the weight of the old jacket on his shoulders.

"Yo, man. You're the craziest guy to go out like that, but good luck, buddy. Stay incognito and stay safe," the black man said with admiration in his eyes. "You've got my respect, bro."

"Thanks." Alex nodded while he stepped to the doors. He removed the makeshift barricade, opening them and left the three of them in the living room.

"Phew. Looks like them crazy people are not doing anything now." The black man sighed with relief.

"Let's hope." Chris crossed his hands while Jill locked the door again.

"You know, Chris…" Jill, with her hands on the doors, glanced at Chris. "I've been thinking…"

* * *

><p><em>Finally. A break from the muscle-man.<em> Alex switched occasionally from walking to quick jogs when no one's noticing. His mind was thinking very fixedly on one thing:

_Wheeler…_

_You can't be in danger.  
><em>

_We had a promise together.  
><em>

_I can't do this without you.  
><em>

It's been two years since the surreal experiences in that accursed place. He hadn't gotten over himself yet; but he must admit that he had a good two years of life in the town. The old town's descendants decided to come back to the dwindling Valley to make it prosper and Alex, who just got out from his horrid hometown, was given the chance to be the manager of the town's inn. Wheeler, who was satisfied enough as a Deputy Sherriff after all the events he went through, was granted that position and lived and worked alongside Alex, managing the money for him from time to time as well; never leaving his side, just as Alex did the other way round.

It was an easy job; he didn't know what he did but the employees of the inn co-operated with him very much, and his manners earned the males' liking and the females' interest. He occasionally took a vacation to other towns when there was nothing for him to do. If he was in the inn, all he did was occasionally send the counter guy to do laundry work while he manned the post at the counter and watch the world go by.

It was too unreal. He was in a peaceful existence. People were actually smiling to him without even knowing his name or his past. He couldn't say he loved the unfamiliar feeling, but he was comfortable.

And just when he thought he was alright again, killing the hostile 'man' in Blake's Lake a week ago reminded him of almost everything – The monsters, the Order members' atrocities...

…Him shooting the man the same spot he had shot his own mother.

It was at that moment his mind snapped: The excruciating jab in his skull shot in and he dropped on the ground in agony. All he remembered when he woke up back in Shelley's Inn was Wheeler who told him that he actually screamed and cried for a good while before collapsing. And when he was brought back, the inn's counter-boy reported that Alex won't stop rolling around and was sweating profusely in bed. Worst of all, Wheeler explained that the man's neck bursting into a shrieking hunk of flesh was real but they could not prove anything because the corpse disintegrated before the police officer could even think of the word "camera".

Just like Shepherd's Glen…and…that place. No one could prove anything in those places. All that come out of there are more missing people, more dead people, and only more mysteries than answers. And the answered questions somehow could never be believed or even revealed; as if some sort of looming force was playing a prank.

And Elle…oh, Elle…He thought she was the only one…He didn't know how marriage works, but since he knew Elle best, it should make the perfect sense to marry her, right? He thought maybe he'll do that when he's twenty-five or thirty, and it was then he became conscious of his age: twenty-four. But after the Wheeler told her what happened in Blake's Lake, Elle disappeared before the day was even over. Just before Alex's despairing psyche could kill him, Wheeler called in a psychologist that he kept in contact with in fear of the worst. The psychologist came to stay, and would only want to be known as Doctor James to be friendly. And after every session with him, whether he knew consciously what was going on or not, Alex felt better. He felt lighter. He felt that he could live. He felt that he could even do this mission with Wheeler!

If he made out of this alive, he promised himself to thank the doctor personally.

…but not without saving Wheeler first. He shared a bond with Wheeler while fighting together in the cursed place. Staying with him through thick and thin was Wheeler. Helping him with the inn was the Deputy Sherriff himself. And Wheeler was right there all these time having the perfect psychologist candidate in bay to make him feel better.

To any other people, they two might look like any other pair of good friends with an age gap. But behind that normal life, was a bond was stronger than anyone else could imagine. They made promises to each other. Made pledges to each other. Even to the subject matter of death. Death...They faced that, but they needed something just as impactful to block out any residual terror they have encountered in the past, convincing themselves that their promises and pledges were somehow a stronger stir to their soul than fear and sorrow. And yes, they did promise and agreed to death to each other in their own ways.

Their trust was just that strong.

_It's all my fault, I shouldn't have left Wheeler there alone. _

Alex, after being told by Dr. James that he was making a rapid progress, insisted that Wheeler bring him to face the horrors of Blake's Lake again with the agents whom Wheeler called in. He was going to face his fears once and for all, he told himself…until he saw the agents: Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield, which aroused the familiar whimper in his heart again. Jill Valentine was a beautiful lady as he saw her…but strong, just like Elle, with blonde hair and everything. And the sight of Chris Redfield was the one that would break his very soul.

Just as if looking at an Elle reminder was not enough, whatever powers may be was surely toying with him by adding to the blow with Chris Redfield. The moment he set his sights on the man, it reminded him of his brother Joshua. He had the same hair colour. His face was strong, just like what he imagined Joshua would be if he grew up. He'll be what Dad was – a true soldier, a grown up muscle-man hero like they've promised each other to grow up as. He would have wanted nothing in this world but to see Joshua grow. The boy who was the only person to have ever showed any familial love to him. The strong boy with the gentle face.

Then it was Elle- no, Jill who woke him up from his series of thoughts that he realized that it was not going to happen. Ever. He killed him. With his own hands. Didn't he?

As he went up the stairs, he just couldn't look at Chris's face. He blamed his creative imagination. He blamed his sins. He blamed his existence. But it was no imagination. He had come to terms with his brother's death but the sight of Chris's face just sets his eyes on fire…but no tears would ever fall. They have stopped falling a long time ago. The only escape was to focus on Jill. _Just like Elle…a strong woman. A strong woman. A strong woman…_Sure, Elle's leaving made him grieve, but it hurt less than Chris Redfield.

The only time he could look Chris in the eye was when he was interrogating the black man with the gun. It was the only time a fuming Chris didn't seem like an embodiment of a future Joshua. He could see that Chris took the chance to look at him intently, although it was very brief.

He also knew perfectly well that Chris's eyes had been on him frequently all this while, demanding eye contact, which added to his remorse of Joshua and also his guilt of inevitably treating Chris rather rudely.

_Joshua…Oh Joshua…if there was anything I could do to be with you again…_

"Urgh! Oh God, I'm sorry!" Thinking it was a warm boulder at first (he apologized nevertheless), the absent-minded Alex found that he had bumped into a big man at the corner of a deserted alleyway. The man fell down flat on his bottom.

"Hey, lady!" The angry fat male with a messy beard got up with a push off the ground- and _Whoa,_ he was big. He had no time to muse any further when a big hand pulled his up his shirt collar with such speed that the jerk choked him. The big man took hold of the military tags that came jingling out of his shirt. "Oooh, looks like you're a real man after all, huh!?" Alex could hardly call it teasing when the brash man in his half-buttoned shirt held him as close as Alex's body coming into contact with his hairy chest. Alex could feel his disgusting breath against his cheek as he turned his head sideways to avoid the fat guy's oral stench.

"Shepherd, Adam?" The man read the words on the tags as slow as he was loud. As Alex deemed the man had his fill of him and pushed away from him, the large fingers suddenly tightened around his shirt collar and the other muscular arm swung around Alex's waist; the big frame easily lifting Alex up and performing a python constriction.

"Wha- A-aaaAAAH!"

He did **NOT **expect that.

"Hoho! I've got a grand prize here!" He tightened his fatty arm again. "I'm gonna become the champiooooooooon! Yeeeeaaaah!"

A crack sounded from the man's grapple.

"Gh-AH HHHHH!"

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	6. Hunted

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.**

* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 6: Hunted

"God, how did he run so fast?" Chris, with Alex's jacket sleeves knotted around his waist, grumbled nervously. He didn't know what's going on, but all he knew was that there's a chance Alex could get into serious trouble. The chances should be lower after he took off Alex's old jacket which the wearer may be recognized as the one who came into contact with a black man. Chris held on to the jacket. It surely had seen better days; it was an old military jacket with some unwashable oil and ink stains at the chest pocket. _This jacket must mean a lot to him…... _Alex looking back at him the moment he wrestled his jacket off stayed in his mind. He felt kind of bad for stripping the other of something important to him. But Alex didn't seem to mind. The Deputy was more important than the clothing item at that moment, and he even took the time to thank him for keeping the jacket for the time being. He's a good-natured man. But the man did look too much of a softie to be a soldier though…

_The dog tags!_

"Shit!" Chris swore. That's just great. The identification that it holds and the striking shine over his black shirt will make recognizing him so much easier. Maybe not so, but it was enough to send a new pang of worry down his stomach.

"Lost sights on a target, brother?" A hunching old man smoking a pipe approached him with his hand on his back. Chris looked into his eyes.

They were bright blue. It- He, was not Las Plagas. "Um…not really. Just thinking of something." It was the only response he could think of; still trying to come into terms that somehow the virus wasn't involved here. Chris pulled on the sleeve of Alex's jacket.

"Really? Grmph…" The old man looked up into the sky. "It's just too bad that we have to make such choices…but if I were to save someone, I may do the same as these townsfolk too."

Chris maintained his calm. "I-I don't understand."

"I don't too, don't you?" The old man exhaled a cloud of smoke. "All they told us was 'shed the black blood and save the white'. I'm beginning to think that taking the statement literally was the biggest mistake this town could ever make."

_So that's what it is…_

Chris dug the information with caution: "So…what do you think it is?"

"Alex Shepherd," Chris flinched at the sound of the name. The old man smoked on his pipe. "That boy they're trying to find. They say he caused all the children to die. Think about it, son." The man tapped his temple, smiling quirkily. "If this Alex Shepherd's caused all this death like they've said then he must be the 'black blood' they wanted to shed! Right? They looked like cult members anyway, so they must be talking in riddles! What do you expect from these religious hooligans!?"

"I don't really understand, sir." Chris feigned a sad face, although in his mind he was making more of a shocked one. No squeamish news would make him flinch, but good god! The revelation! The revelation of it all! It halted his coherent thinking and almost crashed his composure into pieces.

"So do I, young man. So do I." The old man exhaled another cloud in the form of a sigh. "But when some guys come to your town, warning you about a plague unless a person is handed over? And your children start to die in horrible ways because you can't give them what they want? People start to get desperate, only with a set target on radar." He tapped his walking stick on the ground. "It's like getting invaded without a cannon fired or a gun shot. I hate this."

"Yes, sir. I understand what you mean." Chris nodded, that Face of Betrayal flashed through his eyes. _Wesker... _"I went through it once, and things went downhill after that. We survivors never recovered."

"Of course it does, well, nice to know you're still alive and kickin', ain't it, boy? You'd better leave soon though," the man smiled. "After killing black people, the children died even more and the whole town went insane. They'll just go berserk on anyone with an African-American heritage or anyone opposing the killings. Nobody even cares if killing the blacks would work anymore." Another cloud of smoke. "It's going down the slippery slope until the whole town's young people to teenagers to babies are all killed. So take my advice, sonny. Fighting for what's right is good, but staying alive to fight it more at a later time is far better. Just leave while you can?" The grey cloud seemed to disperse slower than usual, as if the foggy breath was the heaviness of the man's heart itself.

_Children!?_

Chris' mouth was practically hanging loose from that news: "I, uh-I-I didn't know the children died like that...But _how_?"

"Haha, still that single-minded righteous man focusing on the justice, eh? Alright alright. Seems like they hid it from you good too." He chuckled, then continued. "At first they don't tell you they died. Then they tell you but not how they died. Let me tell you. Drowned, beheaded, suffocated, buried, you name it. I'll tell it straight to your face."

That's just brutal…Killing _children_? Really? Sound-minded people with a conscience? One or even both of those may be compromised one way or another. But _still_!

Free choice! Free will! How is everything he has believed in and has fought so hard for taken so lightly and thrown out the window just like that?!

Fists clenched and saliva tasted sour. "This...This...is _horrible_."

"Indeed. But it'll continue on, I'm afraid. Unless they find this Shepherd boy, maybe? But they sure are idiots for demanders I tell you. 'About twenty-five years old!' _Pfft!_ As if that description helps anyone or anything! Hah! How outrageous!" The man scoffed.

"But how do you know if giving this person up to them would stop all these deaths?"

"I don't know, boy. The children's death **are** mysterious. No one knows how they just vanished and turned up dead, not even me. So perhaps it has to take another mysterious remedy to cure that?"

"Oh come on! How does that make any sense at all?" Hopes tumbled down to form laments that unconsciously slipped off his treacherous tongue.

The old man laughed at the anxious look Chris gave. "That was a joke, sonny! Ha! In my opinion?" He tapped Chris' shoulder and sighed. "Even if giving this Alex up thing is convincing since they've said it since before the deaths, I still don't trust them. Somehow it doesn't..._feel_ right."

"Doesn't feel right…?" Chris repeated.

"Yeah. And the town is stupid to act without knowing the real reason either." The man stretched. "Well, it's been a pleasure telling my heart out for once. It's been so long since I've done so. Hope ya' don't mind."

"Of course not, sir." Chris was pleased with the information he got. Well, not _pleased_, but satisfied. For now. Trying to be natural, he tried to contribute to the conversation. "I've learned a lot from your wisdom. I haven't got your name?"

"Well? To tell you the truth, I'm too old to even remember! " He chuckled. "Just call me Phillips. And the fun thing is that it's my surname! Now isn't that unusual! So just call me Mr. Phillips in a crowd and I'll come staggering out! Cause' it's a surname! Too...different! Hah!" Elbowing Chris, he laughed: "It's so unique, ain't it?"

Not really, Chris thought. If it has an 's'…

The man walked past Chris unhurriedly with his walking stick. "Don't you have somewhere to go, sonny?"

Chris jumped. His little 'chat' had taken him a damn long time.

"SHIT! Alex!"

Shit.

Chris turned his head slowly to the back where the man was. The hunching man just stood there, motionless.

_Oh no._

The man turned sharply to look at Chris. Chris's whole body jerked in shock.

"Whaaat?" The man looked confused and annoyed. He wasn't sure more on which one.

"N-no. Nothing, sir. I'll just get going now." Chris started to walk towards the police station in sight as normally as possible. He didn't want the man to start shouting and inciting another mob. He'd have little chances of not getting into trouble then. His destination never seemed so far away.

"Take my advice, sonny."

Chris froze at his tracks.

"Believe in miracles."

"…what?" Chris carelessly whispered his thoughts. That was very uncalled for.

"…and do the right thing." The voice's mood then turned lighter as fast as the solemnity went, a hearty chuckle bidding him goodbye:" God bless you. Hahah!"

"…Yes, sir."

Then it was utter silence. No footsteps, no sound of breathing except for his own, no tapping sound of the walking stick.

_Impossible…_

Chris took a sudden turn to the back.

The man was gone. All that remained was a background of the Town Hall. Somehow the bright day had turned into a grey, gloomy one. Since when did that happen…?

"Phillips…" he mouthed. Looking at the direction where the man had gone, Chris started to walk, almost reluctantly, towards the opposite way, eyes not leaving the road and his brain not computing any logic from this. Finally, he turned his attention to his destination. It was still quite far but it was in sight: The very first building directly after the town's welcome sign – The town's police station.

The situation looked more and more dire for Alex than it initially appeared to be. _Alex, you must be the most unlucky guy I have ever met._ Chris groaned in his mind.

If miracles exist…Chris earnestly prayed that they do. Because at the very back of his worried mind and from the bottom of his heart, all he wanted was that the black man they have rescued was wrong on only one thing.

* * *

><p>"You want me to do <strong><em>what<em>**?!" Chris turned his back sharply on Jill and started walking back and forth in frustration. Jill kept quiet. She knew what she said would anger him.

"I can hold my own. What happened to me in Spencer's mansion won't happen again just like that. Besides," Jill tapped an anxious Chris twice in the shoulder. "I know you want to."

Chris stopped and lifted his eyes. "Want to _what_?"

"_Follow him._" Jill blinked at Chris bluntly, as if that was really what he wanted to do.

And she was right. A puzzled Chris arranged his thoughts and found Jill dead-on the money yet again. Jill spoke his thoughts for him before he could even understand what he was thinking: "We've been partners for so long. We know each other." She walked towards the doors and turned back to face Chris. "But deep inside, let's face it: you still can't bear to leave me alone out in the danger since what happened to me."

"Jill, I-"

"You know me, Chris." Jill took hold of one of the doors' handles. "I think it's stupid for us to let him leave alone in the first place. I only let him leave first because I don't want him getting hurt knowing that you'll insist to stay here. Time was short to look for the Deputy too. Besides, you two won't listen to me explain in all that intimacy you were in."

"Jill…!" Chris scratched his neck at her teasing while the black man held back a laugh.

"You know I can survive and I know you can do the same," Jill became serious again. "But even when Alex is a soldier, you don't know anything about him."

"Yeah…so?" Chris gave up on forming answers in his brain and let Jill do all the explaining.

"So…" Jill unlocked the doors. "You don't know what his capabilities are, but you know mine. And you know I can more than well handle this alone, but you don't know the same about him. So it's time for you to just ditch that irrational fear of yours on losing me and follow him." Chris stared at Jill. She was absolutely correct.

"You know I can take care of myself. If you expect otherwise that's just disrespectful to my professionalism!" Jill chuckled off the seriousness and motioned her head to the exit. "So get out there and realize how wrong you were leaving someone out there like that."

Chris went red in the face. It took him a few seconds to comprehend that he was very, very ashamed for leaving a civilian out there to fend for himself. Even so Alex was a soldier, Jill was right; Chris never fought alongside Alex and Chris would never have known his capabilities. He's not even sure if Alex even knew what a B.O.W. was, moreover how to fight one. And when one does not know how to fight a bio-organic weapon, Chris's confidence on someone defending himself against a normal threat is cut by half. Did Alex even know how to defend himself anyway? He looked so...passive every time Chris saw him. He'd be a goner if he had no gun, and there's to be strictlly no shooting in here to prevent panic and hysteria.

Chris shook off the thoughts in his head and slapped his forehead. "Thanks, Jill. And…I'm sorry."

"You know what to do." Jill smiled. "I'll get the survivors out here if there's any."

"Excuse me," the man who had stayed mostly silent throughout the ordeal finally spoke up. "But that was the most honourable guy I've ever seen. Do you by any chance know his full name?" The other two exchanged confused looks for a moment.

"I-I know this sounds kinda cheesy but…" the man shrugged while pocketing his hands in his jeans. "Even if I die later by any chance, at least I want to know the name of the man who in a way saved my life."

"Shepherd, wasn't it?" Jill asked Chris.

"Yeah. Alex Shepherd." Chris turned to the man, whose soft expression instantly turned into an utterly horrified face.

"It can't be…no WAY, man!" The black man exclaimed while walking back and fro across the room. "No, no. Why him!? No. It can't be. There MUST be another Shepherd around. No. It's not a common name 'round these parts…oh shit…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down," Chris held his hands up to calm the man. "What's the problem now?"

"Them guys. Them guys." The man mumbled. He lifted his horror-struck eyes. "Them guys. The guys who started all of this."

"What? You mean Alex started all this!?" Chris shook the man's by the shoulders. "Nonono…!" The man massaged his temples, collecting his thoughts. "Them guys. Who started all these rampage? They came to this town yeah?"

"Yes?" Chris replied.

"They came demanding for a person, right?"

"You told us that." Jill who seconds ago looked only slightly concerned, jumped from shock. "Don't tell me…please…"

"They were comin' for Alex Shepherd."

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	7. Tortured

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk. **

* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 7: Tortured

Jill gasped. One sympathetic expression could be so mercilessly cruel with the statement that followed it:

"They were comin' for Alex Shepherd."

_It can't be true…Oh, no! Alex!_

"Chris!" Jill called.

"Got'cha, partner! I'm moving! Stay safe you two! Contact me when you get out," Jill made an O.K. sign. Chris left the building in haste.

The room went silent for a while.

"Ya' know, lady? You have a way with words. Jill for President."

Jill laughed. "You know what? Put your Caucasian mask back on. Let's go to this hotel you're talking about. There's bound to be some survivors there, right?"

The man smiled as he put on the mask again. "Well, may die later or may not. But won't hurt to save a few lives. Here; I've got a list of survivors here that I rounded up. A lot of them white folks too, defending us blacks and all. Makes me have faith in life a little."

Taking the paper, Jill's face lit up to a smile: "I'm impressed. Well, lead the way."

The man shrugged. "You know…I really hope that guy will be okay. It sucks to be named Alex Shepherd at the moment. I really hope he's not the one they're lookin' for. But then with all the townspeople mad with grief, they won't really care…"

"Hush, don't speak that way. All we can do is doing our part on rescuing survivors and hope for the best." Jill interrupted. "Come on, lead the way."

"I really hope you're right. Let's hurry." The man, filled with refreshed hope, opened the door to a now grey sky.

It was always a leader's job to entrust and to give hope, but Jill was very worried for Alex. She would be very upset if anything were to happen to him. He was undoubtedly a man, although a young one. But to Jill, Alex was too good-natured to be hurt by anything. Or rather, nobody would want or even _need_ to hurt such a person, right?

She could still see the scene play where Alex scurried up the stairs when the Deputy hollered at him to go to bed. It was just too cute!

_Yes,_ Jill thought. _He's just too adorable for anyone to want to hurt him! **Right**?_

* * *

><p>"Uh….N-ah-! Nnngh! Gah-"<p>

"That's it, bitch! That's it! Cry like a bitch like you are! Make me high! And again! Hahahahaha!" The man tightened his squeeze in shorter and shorter intervals, leaving less and less time for the increasingly exhausted Alex to recover. He almost kicked himself of the man a few times before, but now the only things Alex could manage were grinding his teeth together and writhing in agony. Alex's pain only seemed to excite the larger man even more. Looking up and relishing the show that his captive put, he circled both his arms around Alex's waist and hugged.

Alex's loud scream turned to a long, voiceless cry as he arched backwards in the man's crushing hold, hands clawing the muscled shoulders. "Yeah! Come on, bitch! Get high to the highest! Come on, you son of a bitch! Or sheep! Or Shepherd! Hahahaha!"

As the pressure made his eyes water, Alex looked down in his pain, glaring at the man defiantly, as if to say "that's not even funny". "Ohohohoho don't make a face like that, boy, you're making me- AAAAHHHH!" Alex, somehow being able to feel his legs, kicked as hard as he could; his foot landing on the man's genitals.

"Owwowowowwwww!" Big, furry hands clasped in between thighs, leaving the big man staggering around like a kid with a full bladder. Alex tried to push himself up twice but fell flat back on his in chest, the lower half of his body just too numb to respond anymore.

"You'll pay, bitch! You'll pay bad!" The large hulk bawled like a baby in a tantrum. "I'll tear you up like your mommy! Damn you…you, you little cowardly little brat you!"

With extreme difficulty, Alex crawled to the nearest wall and supported himself up. "Oww…" he grimaced as a giant jolt of pain from his throbbing spine formed another teardrop in the corner of his eye. Right at that moment, the image of the Deputy flashed across his memory.

_Save him!? Who am I kidding? He's the one that's always supporting me!_

_Wheeler…!_

"Who's Weeler!?" The now furious man tugged Alex's hair backwards to face him. Alex gasped. "Your training toilet!? Or your lover, huh!? Huh!?" Alex turned his head away but all that did was making the man pull him closer until he could feel the other's beard on his forehead. "You son of a…looked what you've done to my William! It'd be a miracle if I could even piss anymore!" The man's big hands grabbed at Alex's jeans by the back and pulled him painfully towards himself for more incoming punishment. Shouting more in gibberish, All Alex could make out was the man yanking his hair and shouting: "I'll make you suffer…! I'll make you pay! Damn you, DAMN YOU!"

"Stop it!" Alex cried out, trying hard to maintain his balance against the wall instead of attending to his scalp that threatened to come off its place. "What do you want? Why are you doing this to me!?"

"Why!? You asking me why!? Heeheeheehahahaha…!" The man held his head and started _laughing_. "You're more retarded than I thought!" He threw his head up in the air and continued on his giggling fit as if somone just dumped a fair load of laughing gas on him.

Alex cringed. This was more than just uncomfortable; it was downright disturbing. His mind was screaming for him to run, but his feet were already outrageously lucky that they could still stand, albeit shakily. _Oh God, help me. _He thought. _Just send someone to help me. Anyone would do._ The turn of events was just too fast and too great in just a few days, and now, this.

_I'm just so tired. _

"Uh…" A sudden darkness overcame his eyes as he slipped of the wall. His legs gave way and Alex landed on his knees, the freefall shoving the final straw of a force upwards to his injury. Alex succumbed to the pain and collapsed. Panting and vision blurring, Alex's hand was shaking from the support he tried to give to his body to get up.

A flash of Chris's image went through his head. It was during Chris's reaction to his own astonished expression when looking at the agent's biceps. He remembered that Jill saying that he reminded her of Chris's younger self. And how surprised he was to hear that, seeing how different they are, the man's muscles being a start. The newly-met agent was laughing with a slight blush of embarrassment on his cheeks. It was so nice. _Oh Josh…you could've been like that. You could've._ _I…!_

All he could remember feeling was the anger and deep, deep guilt that overwhelmed him before his vision darkened yet again.

* * *

><p>Chris had never felt his heart drop harder in his life than when the man told him Alex was <strong>the<strong> wanted man. It was a blow coming after blow. The anticipation of activities dying down with Wesker's death crashed by the outbreak in Florida. The expectation of minor Las Plagas infestation in Blake's Lake smashed by the reality that people were only acting a similar way with a reason. And the reason turned out to be the very soldier in their group who barely looked like he was ready to take arms to fight. And he left him out there. Alone. Then he got too carried away obtaining information and left Alex susceptible to danger even longer. But why? Why was Alex Shepherd the name of a target out of all of the names out there? And even if the man he's trying to reach _was_ the Alex they were looking for…Did Alex kill all those children? He remembered Alex needed a psychologist. Could he have…?

But he shook his thoughts away. _Calm down Chris. You've got too much imagination today. Even if you don't trust him, at least go to him as the duty of a soldier to protect another. And even if he's a murderer, I'll have to secure his safety until his interrogation._

"Yes, just go to him. It's my duty. Yes. I have to compensate for my failure to perform my duty to protect by leaving him out there. Yes." He smacked both his cheeks lightly."Phew. Okay. I'm okay. Right."

_Breathe. Breathe. Alright. Let's go._

He thanked his soldier sense that he was out of that emotional knot, though he knew that it was also his soldier sense that made him apprehensive of what rumours said Alex was. But for the time being, he chose to believe in the unlucky guy.

Chris cursed silently. He wanted to just sprint towards the destination in sight, but whenever he started to run, it seemed to alarm the ever-solemn people walking down the streets.

_I still can't believe they're not actually the Las Plagas. They're so similar… _

Chris really hoped that the black man that in a way incited all this to happen was wrong…or right. If there were really B.O.W. cases here he could just do his business here and leave, if those B.O.W.s would just show up already. If there were none, he could just pack and go to the south…but he knew that his conscience was definitely not going to let him just abandon everything and run off.

Besides, he's almost arrived at the police station. He couldn't go back now.

"Sorry, Alex…I'm so sorry…" Chris panted to himself while finally approaching the office door of the police station.

"Let's do this investigation together. Stay safe, Alex!"

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	8. Danger

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.**

* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 8: Danger

The door and its barricade went down with a simple shove of the shoulder. With a loud thump, the tall bookshelf that was placed behind the door went down like a domino. Chris shrugged. Sure the bookshelf was full of books, but its centre of gravity was compromised because of its height. Yet Chris couldn't help but just take those three short seconds to pat himself on the shoulder for his small victory. He had to admit that the muscles that had grown on him over the time of his bio-military life obviously helped on his one-hit kill on this one; no normal man could have fell the door _plus_ the bookshelf that easily.

_Hey, but that means…_

Chris looked around the premises, hoping in last effort to spot Alex before thinking of the next step; he was not in sight.

Without thinking, his foot moved itself to step past the door and over the bookshelf. His brain then arrange the logic of his muscle instinct for him: He should look for Wheeler for the time being since he's in the place now; it would be what Alex would have wanted. Besides, Alex might had arrived at the first place and was the one who put up the barricade.

"Wheeler? Deputy Wheeler?" Chris asked into dusty space, all the while brandishing his handgun. He thought to holler but naturally he held it in because from what had just unfolded before him, he decided that the chance of calling in a hostile was not a risk that he should take. The place was a mess, and he could swear there's a bodily stench over the place...like someone who hadn't taken a shower for a week. He turned a doorknob to the end of the room into a decent office. Well, less than decent now that a lot of papers were scattered on the table and on the floor. He would like to scour the papers for any clue on what the hell was going on in here, but as usual he was to fulfil the task on hand, which was searching for the Deputy. And preferably, Alex, just to complete the package. It was his top priority. But maybe he could take some with him...but _which_? He couldn't possibly take _all _too...that would be absolutely absurd. It was moments like these that made him want to stop, take a breath and so-called "figure things out", just like any other movie's characters do. Well it _has _been a while since he had seen a movie, but he assumed that that would be the case from the very few moments he could remember when watching some.

God, from all the tasks he had to do, searching for people is what he preferred the least in the long run. It pents up frustration and eventually desperation in his heart. He hated that. It feels like forever and it dulls his reasoning and locks his body up in fear of the worst.

After a feeling a moment of dread at the silence, a rustle sounded and a voice on the second floor replied him: "Chris!? Is that you!? Good God! Come in here." A door unlocked and Chris heaved a sigh of relief as the door he ran to opened to reveal the face of Deputy Wheeler himself.

"Deputy, I'm glad you're fine." Chris couldn't stop smiling. The tenseness on each of his joints started to loosen, followed by his mind who repeated nothing but "Thank goodnesss, thank goodness."

"Yeah, seating myself in the kitchen. Will last me about a week with all these food right here. But the Sherriff though…" Wheeler set his sights on the floor. "Let's just say he didn't make it."

"What?" Chris stepped into the kitchen and saw a murky pool of blood. It easily struck a conclusion in his brain. _A B.O.W._. In fact, it was most probably that latest strain of virus Wesker had created in his life, where the infected boil and dissolve into thin air in a matter of seconds, leaving behind nothing but a putrid smell and a small evidence of what they once were. Sometimes it was some kind of fleshy goo, some blackened bodily liquid, and this time, blood.

"Poor Francis," Wheeler shook his head. "Everytime I came here he'd make good bacon for me. Such a good Sherriff too. He'd make his rounds every day 'round this town."

"What happened here?" with the information he gained from Mr. Phillips, Chris could guess about half of what happened.

"I had to shoot him, Chris," the Deputy replied grimly, staring at the man's 'remains'. "We were good friends. But I had no idea…"

Chris waited patiently. The man continued.

"The moment I came in, he tried to kill me; babbling about killing black to spare the white and that I was the part of the cause of his daughter's death. Then I found his diary and found out what's been going on here," Fiddling with the brown book he was holding, he turned to look at Chris. "He had bright orange eyes. I'm not lying."

"It just confirms things even further," Chris nodded at Wheeler. He glanced at the big splash of blood again. In his head he was calculating. It must be a B.O.W. Type 1 or Type 2 Plagas. It was not too long ago that they left Wheeler in the day, so getting rid of a body in that short time frame shouldn't be too possible. Furthermore, there was no sign of dragging a body away since there was no trail, only a pool of it. Truth? Seems legit. But it still did not feel right somehow. Maybe he had to see it himself to believe it?

_Wait!_

Chris shook his imagination off yet again. "You okay?" Wheeler asked. Rubbing his skull, he looked Wheeler in the eye. "I- I'm fine." He couldn't believe what he was just thinking. Did he just suspect Deputy Wheeler!?

"Nice try, young man. But that'll not work on _me_." It was the police officer's turn to have suspicion on Chris. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, sir. Why are you turning on me?"

"Tell me what's going on." Wheeler stared attentively at him. "You're hiding something from me." Chris's stomach trembled. He was like Jill who somehow just knows half-formed thoughts from his mind telepathically, only that the Deputy was aiming for the negative ones. "Like what? What am I hiding from you?"

"You know what you're hidin', you tell me now, young man." The Deputy placed his hands on his hips, clearly demanding an answer.

"You won't believe me. Or rather- argh," Chris shook his head in frustration. "Look, I can't just tell you this out of the blue; this is stupid."

One corner of the police officer's lips tugged upwards to form a confident smile. "Alex said the same thing." He crossed his arms. "Try me."

Chris sighed. There's no getting out of this. "Alright, Deputy. I don't know if I can trust- Wait, I trust you. How do I put this?" As Wheeler waited, Chris tried to come with a logical response. "Look- these happenings are just too far out from my expectations, okay?" Chris shuffled around the corridor. "And I just feel weird. Maybe I've never encountered such a situation before. I…oh God, if only Leon were here."

"Go on."

"I'm trying, I'm trying...! Alright. I've just obtained information that made Alex come into my suspicion as a serial killer. I can't bring myself to suspect him, but I am perfectly aware that he's seeing a psychologist! For a while I couldn't trust you because it felt that you were trying to conceal that from us. And yet I can't think too much, considering the hellhole we're in. But either case I feel guilty for not trusting you, okay?"

Looking emphatically at Chris, Wheeler exhaled and nodded: "Don't worry. A scrambled mind is normal under these situations, even if you're an experienced soldier. Try to calm down, Chris."

Chris brushed his hand over his hair. "I'm sorry, Deputy. It's just that…this town is just makes me…I even started to suspect you, Deputy. I'm sorry for my behaviour earlier."

"Ah-hah, and that just made things clearer." The Deputy seemed cheerful in spite of the grim environment. Chris stared with disbelief at Wheeler, who casually loaded his handgun.

_How did that clear up **anything**?!_

_No it does not,_ Chris was about to say. But before he could mouth it, Wheeler asked a question that made him jerk in shock.

"That reminds me. Where's Alex?"

"Alex…he never came…right?" Chris swallowed. That sour sensation of dread spread inside his chest and throat again. "The barricade was there; he couldn't have-"

"Don't be talking to me about muscles now, soldier!" A worried Wheeler shook him by the shoulders. "You left him out there _alone_?!"

"I'm sorry- Look, he wanted to go after you so badly, alright? I followed but I couldn't find him anywhere!" Chris knew that it was not the whole story, but that would do for now.

"God…you must keep looking for him! It's too risky for me to go out with all those people rampaging like that though…Shit!" The Deputy stomped his foot in frustration.

"Look, Wheeler, you have to get out of here. Shit has gone down right here, and it's already starting to stir outside in the town. If you don't go quick, it's not going to be pretty. The car's out there, right? You have to go back and get reinforcements and transport to get people out of here."

Wheeler looked at Chris and gripped his shoulders tight. "Then you must find Alex. You must."

"Alright, Deputy. Let's move, shall we?" Chris reassured him. There was no time for emotions anymore. Too much of his time has been wasted on them. Surely, he will find Alex, and he must.

"_Chris…_"

The two men jumped.

"_Chris? Come in. It's Jill. Is it safe to talk?_"

Chris and Wheeler looked at each other and chuckled. He took out his walkie-talkie. "Yes, Jill. This is Chris. Remind me to use the earphones now that the town's gone to Hell. How's everything at your end?"

"_Very good, Chris. We've secured the survivors, and we've found enough transport and are on our way out. We have to get people in to evacuate the others. But for now, these people will be sent to B.S.A.A.'s emergency department._"

"Perfect!" Wheeler applauded before Chris could get a word in. "Wheeler? Is that Deputy Wheeler?"

"Yes."

"_Where's Alex?"_

Chris gulped. "…I'm afraid I haven't found him yet."

"_Alright,_" Jill's voice sounded shaky. "_Listen, Chris. I've got something for you. We've had survivors who just came in and saw a commotion in Sade Street._"

"_What _street?" Chris furrowed his brows.

"_Not the **said** street, it's **Sade** Street! Look. I've obtained the town's map and I'm going to send it to you. Just look into it and you'll understand. Deputy, you have to get out now. The situation will be bad if they spot you._"

Wheeler sighed, but nodded to Chris. "Okay. The Deputy will leave. That means it's down to only me then."

"_Please hurry, Chris! She said that one of the men had a black T-shirt on. And she said that things were not looking good for him._"

"Right. I'll get to it immediately. Over and out." Chris turned to Wheeler. "Deputy."

"Alright. Get Alex. I'll never forgive you if he doesn't come back alive!" Wheeler said sternly before getting the keys to his car.

"Leave this to me. Oh that's right Deputy," Chris remembered something. "Can you lend me something?"

* * *

><p>Chris's pants-pocket emitted a beep. He took out his PDA and sure enough, Jill sent him the map with the mark where the survivor said the fight was going on. To his delight, the spot was in the route of between the police station and the random house they went into earlier, which Jill also marked for his convenience. Grabbing the PDA with renewed confidence, he whispered his thanks to Jill and headed off to the site where a blessed soul saw Alex. There was no question to the man's identity.<p>

Chris ran and slowed down when there were townsfolk walking around like lifeless zombies; zombies blinded by grief and despair. In a way, Chris felt sorry for them. Somehow these 'zombies' were worse than the 'real' zombies he encountered for so long. Real zombies' existence had a reason – viruses. They were created with a reason – to be sold to destroy. They act the way they do because of a reason – Biological mutations caused by a virus. They were fought because of a reason – The havoc they wreak and the risk of infection. The can be fought because of a reason - They have weak points and strong points. He could defeat these zombies with confidence and a clear conscience, knowing that they were not themselves anymore.

Well, these around him? These are just unpredictable, unprecedented, and just pure scary. There were two lessons here: 1. Sometimes humans are just scarier than monsters. And 2. Fear comes up when there is a void of understanding.

_Heck, if they knew what UFOs really were, no one would be that afraid of them anymore._

Chris had to snicker to himself. How did he come up with _those_ ideas?

He walked through the streets until he came upon Sade Street. He crossed the road and dashed towards the deserted alleyway behind some apartment blocks.

"Alex?!" The breathlessness originating more from his heart than his lungs, Chris scaled his hands along the narrow alleyway as he ran on. Finally, his footsteps came to a stop where the alleyway opened to a wider space.

Finally. He found the man he came to find.

"Ale-" Chris was about to exclaim with joy before the feeling of uneasiness came over him. Alex was lying on the ground; that was expected since the source told him he was at a disadvantage. He was almost a hundred percent sure Alex was alive, because strangely enough, a big burly man which Chris guessed was Alex's opponent was lying face-first on the ground. And _oh GOD, all the blood...!_

Something's wrong…

* * *

><p>"<em>Jill? Come in.<em>"

Jill grabbed the gadget she had been holding tightly for quite some time. "Chris! Jill here. How's everything?"

"_Thanks to you, Alex is found._"

"Oh…Thank Goodness! It's a miracle that I still have a signal here! Let's try out how far these walkie-talkies can go later, alright? You're it. Back to the news, we're on halfway out of town and it'll be about half an hour more until we arrive at Shelley's. "

"_Good. Hey I can't talk long here though. I need to check out something._"

"What!?" Jill almost shouted into the equipment. "Just get him out of that place already, Chris!"

"_Don't worry. It's about Alex anyway. I won't take long._"

"Look-," Jill groaned with frustration and a hint of worry. "No matter what you do, just get out there quick. We were spotted when still in town and it's only time before they connect the dots between you and me."

"_Really?...Anyway I'll be careful._"

"This is not like you, Chris. Just get out of there quick. Just in case, I've sent a map of empty residences due to the evacuation. You can use them as temporary safe houses. Reinforcements may only arrive one or two days later. So be careful."

"_Right. Over and out._"

"Sounded quite ruffled there, madam. Who dared to shoot at the dove?"

Jill mustered a laugh. "That's sweet." Clearing her throat, she continued: "It's nothing. I just hope he gets out quick."

"You know…" The black man who introduced himself as Oskar during the ride started hesitantly again. "Those weird guys said Alex will be the cause all the children to die in this town if not handed over. And then children _did_ start to die. But I don't believe he did it, or had anything to do with it. What about you?"

Jill remembered vaguely the Deputy's mention of Alex needing a psychologist. She always had a clear conscience and a strong heart so she never remember ever seeing one. So when someone needed a mental doctor, Jill immediately imagined the doctor holding zapping equipments instead of a stethoscope and the patient being a rampaging psycho like a serial killer of some sort.

"Um…I really can't imagine Alex doing something like that." She could not forget how much Alex looked like a whimpering little dog before finally leaving the random house they barged into.

Oskar, amused, watched Jill's face as she smiled sheepishly.

"Nope." She confirmed for her imagination. "Definitely not."

"….ey…axe….."

"…me…Alex!"

"Uhh…" Alex groaned. His eyelids felt like a set of weights. He glanced to the sky and saw a familiar face. Or did he see that face before?

"J-Josh?…- AHH!" Alex's guess was cut short by an enormous sharp pain to the lower backbone when Chris turned his torso over.

"What?" Chris grimaced at the pain he unwittingly caused Alex. "You're hurt too? That's gonna make things difficult."

Alex got on his elbows, then his hands and got up while scowling at the pain it brought. "Ah…" Alex breathed in the damp air, sitting on the ground while his hands supported his frame. "Thanks, Chr…"

Before he could finish his sentence, he felt something awfully wrong. His hands were…

"Wh-what?" Alex looked at the standing soldier in confusion while the handcuffs jangled on his wrists.

"I did it." Chris's unyielding expression seemed so merciless in Alex's eyes. "Now don't make a face like that." Chris looked away, not daring to face Alex, whose eyes were staring at him like a dejected puppy. He pointed to the big man who was still lying face down on the ground, motionless. "As much as I would like to trust you, you are in suspicion of what you may have done here, among all things."

"I can't see." Alex tried to get a glimpse of the downed man in his seated position. Chris gave him a look and held out his hand to him. Alex caught his hand and got up, but not before stumbling down again. "I-I can't."

"So do you want to see it or wh-" Chris halted at Alex's expression of inarticulate shock. _No way-_, he thought, as he turned to the back, only to see a man towering over his size, staggering towards him with choked moans.

_He got up!?_

The man's stare was as glaring as he remembered the Kijujians did. As hard as the man swayed and staggered, his eyes never left Chris. In fact, it burned so hard into him that he found that he couldn't react; the hate in those eyes simply stunned him.

His eyes were brown. It was not a B.O.W.. _Damn that thought! Move! Move!_ Chris's foot still rooted to the ground like an oak tree.

Somehow this was different from everything he has ever encountered before.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	9. Rescue

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.**

**Notes: This chapter is posted, not replaced like the previous ones, because those who subscribed have the right to be notified; they deserve that much. Yes. I'm kinda back. What I lack in diligence, I have in motivation. So cross your fingers for me, perhaps?  
><strong>

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><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 9: Rescue

Staying collected when new creatures suddenly charge at your face is not any normal feat (of course), but Chris' senses had been trained to do just that when it happens.

But a loud cry, a frame knocking past his shoulders and a thump was all that his head could register before a force downed the big man. "Alex?!" Alex, after launching himself to kick the big man in the gut, leaned against Chris's back while groaning and catching pants of air in between. Chris turned around to properly support the other, but Alex held up his hand. "No, wait." Before Chris could ask why, a gurgle-like moan answered all the questions he would have wanted to ask. The man had gotten up. Infinite rage seamed to cloud his blank eyes when he set his sights on them.

Then, he charged.

With all his might.

He stumbled, but he was still coming fast.

There was no time to lose; Chris' hand instinctively grabbed hold of-

"H-hey! Let go of me!"

"No."

"What the-" Chris did NOT expect that man's grip to be so hard.

"Yous- you…YOU!" The man shouted…and tripped, landing face-first.

"_Let. Go. Off. My. Arm!_" Chris hissed into Alex's ear.

"_Please! Wait!_" Alex's grip tightened on his gun arm, and then loosened it back to just grabbing…just as the big man _growled_ with seething anger, pounding his fist on the ground for support.

"_Alex_…_! Let._"

"_Trust. Me._"

Chris who wanted to push Alex right off his back to grab his gun by using his other hand stopped. His trusty-old intuition told him to. But in a situation like this? A sour tinge spread inside his chest like colouring to a clear glass of water. Controlled panic; he's sure. But…was that…_trust_?

"_Alex…?_"

"_Yeah._"

"_You are BATSHIT crazy!_"

But as crazy as it sounded, he wanted to give Alex a chance.

"You…you…" Attention was all turned to the big man when he growled yet again when stumbling again. "You…the black blood…." His index finger was pointing towards their direction. "The first-born…you…harbinger of doom! You..you deserve everything that's coming to you, you black sheep…"

"_And you are, too."_ Chris couldn't help but mutter at the big man. "_What are you people even TALKING about-_"

"You're wrong…" replied Alex with a renewed determination, much to Chris's surprise…and _shock_. "I'm not some kind of-…of _offering_ just because you want me to be. And I may be from the Shepherds, but Hell I'm not going to be shipped to die just because of that! Now fuck off! And tell whomever that you came from the exact same thing! You'd better leave before I _really_ get mad!" This content was nothing Chris had known of in the documents, briefing, or introductions. What the _hell_ was going on here?

"Heh. And then you'll do **what**? Charge in with your boyfriend over there? From what I've heard you did in your past and what I'm seeing now? You've grown pathetically soft." He spat and made sure that it was loud. "Either way, you're screwed, Shepherd. It has come for us, for me," With an almost threatening glee, he whispered: "and soon, punk, very soon, it'll come to you at your fucken' face."

"What is?!" Alex demanded. Chris jerked. That was the loudest he's heard him since he's met him.

The man gave a chuckle. "You're smart. You know it. If you don't…Nah, you'll figure it out. Believe me; you know who's coming for you. _Think_."

"What…" A second later, Chris could feel Alex's legs buckle together. "…No…!"

"Ahhh…" For someone hurt so bad, the big man did really sound pleased. "Looks like you're not so stupid after all, boy."

_Hmm…Something that big dude's saying is true then,_ Chris mused.

This investigation had just become more than it turned out to be.

"But you're stupid NOT TO KILL ME WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE!" The big man roared, half-laughing, half-seething, lunging at them given the opening.

"ALEX!" He was half-screaming. If adrenaline was supposed to help, it better be now.

But no; the grip on his arm was tougher than ever. "**_Damn_** it!"

Just as he twisted his other arm around to get hold of his gun, he heard a metal scraping off the floor before it swiped inches away from his face and a wet crunch sounded behind him.

_What?_

Glancing across his back, he found that Alex had apparently gotten a steel pipe somehow_,_ and had struck the man in the head with it. Fortunately for him, Chris had caught sight of Alex losing his balance and caught him before he could fall roughly to the ground. Chris dragged Alex out of the way as the big guy lurched to where they were standing, and with one final croak, crashed down face-first with, Chris noted, an _almost_ comforting thud.

Albeit the big bloody gaping wound at the big man's back, which sprayed blood on impact. And he heard that wet sound when he was moving him and Alex out of the way and wondered what it was. He can't say he's sociopathic from not being fazed from all the blood and such a big slice across the man's back. He's one of the most experienced man in America on bioterrorism-fighting, after all. But even the God or Devil of Hypocrisy (if there was one) would blink at how readily his head's motors were turning at the situation, producing the question: Who caused it?

Who stuck something so big and dragged it so hard that the man is practically like a gutted human fish? The man was breathing, but he was gagging and gurgling. Like a fish out of water.

What caused it?

What could be so big and so powerful that could do such a thing to such a big man? A chainsaw, perhaps?

"Ha-Ahhh! Oww…"

His attention was turned to the star of the action; a new cry of pain came out of Alex's mouth with every single area of his back Chris' hands had pressure on. Realizing that Alex was in pain, he slowly lowered the ailing man on the ground. Alex seemed to have appreciated that because he did not complain and breathed carefully to prepare his landing on the ground. Chris remembered his mother used to do that loud breathing when she was heavily pregnant with Claire. Chris watched as Alex arched his back against the floor, before daring to double up while turning sideways in fear of some kind of pain. Chris stood stunned for a few seconds. Should he thank him or should he not? He was the one who cuffed him up after all. This was more than awkward. He shook that thought off; it was not the time for this. He crouched down beside the man.

"Hey, you okay?"

Chris did not realize how much Alex was worse off than what Chris initially believed it to be, until he laid his hand on his shoulder. Alex's body was stiff yet shaking, and from the sound of it, it weakened Chris's knees to recognize the sound of two rows of teeth grinding hard…_very hard_ against each other. That was when the realization came that it was not a simple case of headache or stiff muscles from being out cold; he was really injured. And to think he was assuming something minor like a sprained ankle or something from the mobility he displayed a moment ago. How optimistic of him, eh? If he wasn't wrong about it, the injury would be…

"AHH!? Stop! Stop it! Agh! Please!" Chris' heart jumped out halfway through his throat. He snatched his hand from Alex's lower back so fast his elbow buckled. "Ahhh...!" A teary-eyed Alex rolled around the cement until he came to a stop, lying on his back under Chris. "Why did you do that? That hurt! Oww….Ow, ow, ow!" The cries of pain began to subside before he started to cough dryly. "OwhgodIthinkI'mgonna_puke_…" He turned sharply to lie on his back, but not before complaining and groaning again.

Chris jumped.

"Did he…?" and stopped abruptly at his question. The two words cut through any noise in their airspace.

Half-lidded eyes tried to look at him as Alex grimaced with pain: "…W-what…? ...What is it?"

"No. Now's not the time for this."

"Time for what?"

"Your flies."

"M-my…My what?" His neck gave away for a while, and he lifted his head again. Giving up, he laid back and cuffed hands lowered to feel blindly for the zipper. When he realized that it was as Chris had said; he clawed for it and pulled, but it only went halfway and got stuck. Desperate to cover up, he felt for the button, and his heart got panicky when the feeling of a round metal wasn't there where it should be.

"Damn- That's not the time for this! And stop looking! That's rude!"

"I don't mean anything by looking," Chris shrugged his shoulders defensively. "Just- I mean- I _told_ you this was not the time."

"…"

"…"

"…Now what?" Alex resumed the conversation with his fingers still fumbling with his pants.

"…we're going to get out of here, of course. Or stay until evacuation arrives, if we are forced to hide."

"…"

"…"

Alex hissed in pain, but he found a painless way of positioning his body, and he sat up.

"I didn't do it."

"Says the one who almost killed me by not letting me get my gun," Interjected Chris directly after he finished his sentence, crossing his arms. He knew Alex was going to say that.

"But I _HAD_ to!"

"'Had to' _what_?" He continued Alex's lamentful exclamation for him while standing up with anger. "Inviting him for a chat when he's clearly already hostile with no backup around? Please tell me you're trained better than that. Or did you 'had to' create the chance for this guy to maul me to death?" He could almost taste _digust_ in his mouth when Alex looked up at him with wide eyes and kept shaking his head, mouthing the word "no" over and over. He stood up and eyed him knowingly when he shot out again: "Or 'had to' keep everything from me so that nothing leaks out? You're up to something. You're not as simple as you seem. You're using us for something, aren't you? Whatever reason you're hiding your secrets, I'm gonna find it, Shepherd."

"_B-but Agent Redfield!_" Alex's wide-eyed cry ended with a whimper before he drooped his head, devoid of any argument.

Chris narrowed his eyes. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"No. No it's not. I didn't intend to- Please- This is not the time for this-"

"DAMN IT, SHEPHERD!" The fabric of Alex's T-shirt ripped when Chris grabbed the collar. Alex's mouth hung open with a half-choked yelp and he coughed.

Teeth grinded together just as hard as he snapped his eyelids shut. "_Please_."

"_…sure it was here?_"

"_…where…?...hurt…_"

"_-heard…Shepherd…somewhere…_"

There were alien voices nearby. Nothing was wrong about that, except for the fact that they were mentioning **his** name. Alex covered his mouth tightly to suppress his hard breathing. Chris looked around. The voices were faint but Chris could make out about three people's blubbering voices in a distance away.

Chris lost no time. Positioning one arm behind Alex's back and another under his thighs, he burrowed his head through Alex's cuffed hands and lifted him up in a quick huff. Alex shut his eyes and hissed from the pain. He shot a look to Chris, who shot back a stern glance with an equally sharp whisper: "I won't risk having you choke me if I'm piggybacking." Alex rolled his eyes and whispered back: "That wasn't it! That hur-" He gasped from Chris's sudden striding off away from the place before he could finish. A glance behind the soldier showed the man which he would describe as the Un-gentle Giant, lying on his face in a pool of blood. The big bloody wound at his back made Alex shudder. And he just clobbered him with a pipe after _that _kind of injury? It was not a good way to die.

"What happened here…?"

It was as if someone pinched his insides when Chris coldly replied: "You tell me that when we get back to safe quarters. Securing you out of the town is my first priority."

"B-but…" Alex stopped when he found that he actually had nothing to say.

_I didn't do it…_

The man was still juggling between breathing and having oozes of red liquid and also bubbly white foam in his breathing orifices. Such sight, such gurgling sounds. Neither one of the leavers wanted to see or hear it again. Alex, for normal reasons, and for Chris, it goes deeper to a slight sadness that the big man (as monstrous as he was) was suffering, and _dying _most probably, as a **human**. Chris could have taken it with no problems if there were some kind of new God-forsaken strand of virus creature exploded out of him within seconds, but suffering like that with no viral contamination?

With the grunts and gags fading away with distance, the guilt was gone at one second, and popped out with amplified echoes at the next, saying: Damn, he should have put a bullet through his head for a damned justified mercy killing.

"...we should have...we should've ended it for him." A voice from yours truly shuddered with his body, most probably fearing any backlash for daring to suggest something so outrageous.

Which is actually coincidentally, and surprisingly enough, not so outrageous with Chris, after all.

"Shut up."

_Not_ his thoughts exactly. He meant to say something along the lines of he agreed with him. But for now his anger for the betrayal of his trust was flaring.

_Grh...Wesker..._

It was still more raw in his system than he would like to realize.

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><p>He cursed internally. He just had to go ahead and say it, hadn't he? But...he couldn't really hold something like that in either. At least the response wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. After all, what could Chris do to him? Drop him to the floor and run off? But of course he would not do that. All he could do now was hold on tighter and move his head closer to the centre of gravity that he was depending his weight on.<p>

He wasn't a fat slob. He did not remember putting on weight either. In fact, he's been ever the same since coming out of the nightmares in that place, maybe even dropped slightly in body weight. But this man was strong. Chris was running with him as luggage. He admired the strength of this man; it was a personificaton of everything he could never become. Chris is a good man, but friendship was out of the question since five minutes ago which seemed like a long time to Alex.

They went quite a distance after exiting the corridors. He heard an opened door being kicked open: "…Don't worry, we're almost safe for now." The voice sounded caring again, as Chris went through the door to an empty house. Alex's eye twitched. How could he sound so cruel yet so kind later? This was too unfair…It reminded him of the forbidden memory where his parents were kind at (very few) times and yet so cold to him. The pain throbbed worse when he found out that they actually _did_ love him.

Why, oh why did the fates have to toy with his life like this…

"Man, you have a man's face, but inside, you're still a kid." Chris plopped Alex on the bed after carrying him up the stairs. Soft and cool bed sheets soothed his nerves and for once, his back's pain had a numb sensation to it instead of resembling a razor-sharp glass growing out of his spine. Chris pulled the curtains together while Alex inhaled and exhaled carefully until he got used to the comfort the bed gave. "Oww…H-hey, who're you calling a kid?"

"You, of course." Chris replied nonchalantly, while wiping a tear from the corner of Alex's eye.

"…i-it's from the pain." Alex forced out an answer. He gave himself a satisfying mental pat on the shoulder for the small defiance. It was mostly true, anyway.

But the silence that ensued was not comfortable. They stared at each other in the semi-dark room, both awkward and surprised by their coincident shut-up. "I-I…" Alex tried to break the ice, but found himself without words yet again. Their escapade had driven all heat of the anger cold, and all suspicions forgotten…for now. He did not want to talk risking digging into any subject that would trigger any scorn from Chris again. He did not want that. Even if the illusory peace would only last a little while, it was fine. Just…don't bring it up.

So Alex shut his mouth, and swallowed hard when he felt a weight settling on the beside him. Alex felt hands on his shoulder and waist, and panic took over when he realized that his body was being turned to the side.

"Nonono! Oh God, Please, NO!"

Realizing what Chris was about to do, Alex's cuffed hands shot up to push Chris's face, much to Chris's annoyance. "Stay still. I need to take care of that back of yours."

"How can I stay still when you're going to mess with that kind of pain!?" Alex exclaimed frantically, tears of desperation already forming in his eyes from the dread of the pain Chris would have caused him. Chris looked at Alex's face for a few seconds and sighed. "You're not getting away from this. We have to leave soon cause' they may realize our presence and find us. Besides," poking lightly at his side muscles and earning a held-back yell from Alex, he continued: "any injury should be treated ASAP. You know that." Chris kept staring intently at him, waiting for what Alex might suggest.

Alex, getting the message, took the opportunity of the pause to immediately voice his request: "Th-the bathroom. Please let me use the bathroom." By doing that he may at least delay the inevitable pain by some time, and even avoid soiling himself when it was time to fix his injury.

"The bathroom." Chris raised a brow questioningly while mulling over possibilities that might result in allowing it. Answering nature's call is a must, and a shower can soothe the muscles a bit, but…He got up, pulled over a chair and sat in it, crossing his arms. "But how can I know if you won't try to escape or do anything stupid? I'm going with you."

"Please, no!" Not expecting such an answer, Alex became desperate. "Please, no!" Not expecting such an answer, Alex became desperate. "I know you're thinking that I'll escape but I just won't, okay?! I also can't hold it in anymore, just take me in the bathroom and I'll do my business alone, just please!" Aside from looking down with embarrassment at Chris's order, his hands were also firmly pressing down on his bladder. Maybe the critical incident earlier almost literally made him piss his pants. Or maybe it was his lower internal muscles malfunctioning from the crush of the big man. Or maybe he only felt the urgency when his normal senses returned to him after all the adrenaline died down. Either way, he needed to go. And he needed to go fast. And he was NOT going to let someone watch him urinate and defecate.

Chris heaved a sigh. "Alright." He carried the wounded man the way he did before and made his way into the bathroom. He carefully sat the man on the toilet seat: "Hey, you okay?"

Alex breathed in heavily but steadily at the throbs down his sides. He nodded. He didn't want to show any hint of dependency just in case Chris would take back his half-fulfilled request and stay to make sure he was alright. "Okay," Closing the curtained window in the bathroom, he locked it and glanced back to Alex, and one could instantly tell that there was doubt in him. "I'm giving you ten minutes. If I hear any sound that resembles a window opening, I'm going come in here and make sure you don't try anything funny."

"Y-yes, sir." Alex hung his head low as Chris left, crestfallen. His eye twitched with a certain heat when he heard Chris radioing Jill at the other side of the door. _He's most probably telling her that I'm a killer._ But he didn't have much time to grieve; he started taking off his spoiled pants on the seat, grinding his teeth with every movement he made.

In his exasperation on him being restrained at a moment, he really hated the fact that Chris couldn't be more open-minded to things and just arrest him **after** they got out of this damned place. But deep down, he couldn't deny his admiration of Chris for being so dutiful. In a twisted way of thinking, Chris was like his dad - His dad loved his country and family; he would do anything for them. And his dad, in a way, tried so hard to perform his duty of sacrificing him, had to cope by treating him like dirt. Maybe it was even for his own good that his dad had done that; if he hadn't knew love, how bad could it get if he were really sacrificed? He would not have any attachments to this world. Then everything could have been better off like that. He might even be _glad_ to die if the sacrifice had really happened.

But of course, that was the past, and those thoughts became no more than just imaginative possibilities. Now that Alex had come to terms with the events back at home, he no longer hated his dad as much as he used to. Of course he could not _hate_ the man. Perhaps he never did. Negative feelings rise and wallow up, and still he could not find the heart to hate him, even before he knew what hit his hometown. But sometimes, Alex just had to wonder: How would his life be if his parents actually showed him love and affection before he was to be sacrificed?

Maybe it was better to have lived happy and die young, than to live miserably only to live on while the ones that he cared about died one by one. And just look at him now! Still haunted by memories, being injured that hurt like hell and being blamed for a murder by the one who almost snapped him in half! As if the previous time was not bad enough, the cycle was looped again with Jill unwittingly acted as a substitute for Elle and Chris, Josh.

It was like a broken record playing over and over. They have shaped him according to their own agenda and then they still rejected him even after they have done what they've done to him. They still humiliated him, whether they intended it or not. And they leave. He was always the bad guy. Or the one who bears all these ugly scars of memories and pain that would never disappear. Then someone, or some-_thing_ would always barge into his dreams, just when he was the most alone and vulnerable. It had hit full force with its physical manifestation in his hometown years back. Even when being in such a perplexing situation where he had an injury that hurt more than hell, sitting on a toilet thinking about his miserable life, he still found it hard to believe that what had happened to him throughout his life was real. Was life really worth living?

Alex's attention shifted to the spare razor blades scattered on the counter beside the sink.

Was life really worth living?

Would anyone even think that the life of Alex Shepherd was worth living anymore at this moment in time?

It was a funny thing to think of when using the toilet, but it didn't matter to him. It hurt, but eventually he finished emptying the wastes from his bowels. He looked around and found a hosed water sprayer attached to the wall just beside him. _Perfect. _Alex mused. _No leaving a mess when Chris comes back. _He took it and used it for its intended purpose; he cleaned himself and even sprayed water further into his rear to clean his insides just for the heck of it. He rested for a while on the toilet seat, but not before finishing up by washing his hands and putting on his pants.

_Oh, God…Is there anyone, ANYONE at all, who'll want me alive without wanting to take advantage of me? _

_Is there anyone at all who would want me alive because of love alone? Even if it's a twisted one or an innocent crush… Is there anyone out there who'll want me alive?_ _At all?_

He didn't know if he was praying to God, or the 'God' of his cursed hometown (or that if he was even praying at all); he didn't know the exact differences, but at least he could distinguish between the two. There was always some kind of force watching him, but they never seemed to reply.

This time, it was the final straw.

Breathing deeply, Alex pushed himself up launched himself to the bathroom counter. He landed rather roughly, but he managed to support himself at the side of the counter by leaning against it. Slowly, but surely, he shifted himself sideways using his arms until his target was at arm's reach. Alex looked at the big, clear mirror in front of him. _Here's to my release_, Alex toasted to himself in his mind as he noticed his face showed a hint of relief. But at the moment when he was reaching for the razors, a thought sparked in his head.

For the first time since forever, the end of his lips trailed upwards to form a smile.

He was going to lock the door.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	10. Rocky Peace

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.**

**Notes: I'm struggling with a lot of things, but the storyline is not one of them. It's gonna get rocky than the previous version. Review if you have anything to say. But other than that? Enjoy, I guess. Thankyou for reading so far.  
><strong>

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><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 10: Rocky Peace

Chris closed the door behind him. He sighed. Maybe he was being too harsh on the guy? He hated to be the bad cop. That was one of the reasons he went for military service instead of being a police officer. He took out his walkie-talkie. He needed to contact his partner. He was sure that she would berate him for all these happenings. But he needed to report on the situation.

"Jill? Come in. Are you there? Come in Jill."

"_…_"

"Jill? Come in, Jill."

"_Yes! What's the update, Chris? "Sorry, fell asleep on the way. What's up?_"

"Look, Jill…There's something I need to tell you…Can we switch to the cell instead?"

Then Chris told her everything through the phone. About the burly man's death, how people were looking for Alex, and that the guy was a suspect more than ever with his mental condition and people demanding to get him into their hands, thus he arrested Alex in suspicion that he was one of the causes, if not the only cause of the deaths. He also told her how they were forced to lock themselves into a house because Alex couldn't even walk moreover escape effectively, with the people already looking for them and all that.

"Chris," Jill let out a sigh; Chris braced himself. He knew where she was going with this. "Geez. Arresting him and all! Since when was 'not treating a suspect like a criminal till proven guilty' a thing of the past?!"

"…Sorry, Jill." Chris apologized. "I…" He paused. He looked around. Shrugged. Fidgeted. Rubbed his forearm, which was covered in goosebumps. This was crazy, but he be damned if he were to hide this from his long-time partner.

"…I…"

"Chris?"

"Today's just a bummer. Nothing's going right, and I swear this town gets into me the longer I'm in here…"

"This…this is just such unlucky chain of events…" A pause. "…Actually I don't really blame you. At first I thought this was just not my day, but I think it's the town that gets into my nerves. In fact, this is one of the few times I've slipped in a mission. Got us noticed, and I think they are the ones who are looking for you or are on the alert now."

They both gave a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry. I'm at fault too."

"…" Chris didn't know what to say. It was kind of unnerving to have the same experience as Jill had, or place the blame on something else. "No…it's fine, really. At least we agree on ONE thing – This town's screwed up. It feels similar, yet it's different…but I can't seem to put my finger on it."

"Yeah…you said it."

"…er…yeah. Any news on the Deputy?" Changing the subject is better than continuing the current topic, which was…nothing at all.

"Oh, yes! In fact, he's radioed me to tell me he caught up with us and is at the end of our caravan line."

"Thank goodness." Chris sighed with relief. "He encountered a Majini in the police station though. The victim was Francis something. You'll have to get to the Deputy for details."

"Right." Jill noted. "I'll start the investigation back at the inn. It's either another case of Los Illuminados or it's just coincidental that we encountered more than just one problem this time. And by the way, I've urged the HQ. They'll manage an evac for you tomorrow afternoon. I'll try to get them to come earlier. Please stay safe till then."

"Thanks, you're the best. Jill- listen. Don't tell the Deputy whatever I've just told you. Just tell him Alex can't go back and we'll wait for reinforcements."

"I'll try. I bet he'll go nuts over the fact that you arrested his boy."

It kind of surprised them both that they heaved a heavy sigh over the phone at the same time, but strangely, they knew for what reason they have done so.

"At least we're going somewhere with this, huh?"

"Better talking about this than talking about the town," Chris could feel her smiling into the receiver. "It makes me feel…uneasy…Like…I'm fighting something I can't see."

"Right back at'cha," Chris smiled.

"…See you, Chris." Jill said with hesitation.

"Thanks again, and don't worry, Jill. I'll be fine." Chris glanced behind him. "And I'm sure Alex is done now. I'm going to- HOLY…!"

"What's going on there, Chris?!"

"Shit! He just locked the door. Call you later, Jill. I'll make sure he doesn't escape!"

"Right! Update me!"

Chris pocketed his phone. His gut feeling made him run downstairs to open the side-door at the kitchen to get outside; somehow his instincts told him pounding the bathroom door wouldn't help, especially when he's not with a team of officers. Chris got ready to run out to the empty compound to look up at the bathroom window. But he stopped.

_Damn, there's people looking for us out there!_

Chris calmed down a little and mused over it for a second: Even he wouldn't risk jumping off the second floor. Not that he can't though; with a bit of hanging off ledges and you can drop yourself down to the ground safely with few complications. But that guy's injured, and he's not faking it.

_What is that kid up to?_

Chris held his hand back from the kitchen door and made sure (again) that it was locked.

"Seriously, I'll never figure out these guys who've lost it!" Chris exclaimed. He was tired of all the Wesker insanity and now he had to face this Alex Shepherd. Alone. He reminded himself to e-mail Josh to ask how's Sheva doing there in Africa when this is all over. He sure appreciated her company now that he needed to deal with weird people. Wait, Josh? Didn't Alex say that to him just now? Who's_ his_ Josh?

Chris ran his palm over his eyes and groaned. There's too much thoughts rushing into his head. _Damn, if only any of my partners were here with me now…_

Chris walked up the stairs, entered into the master bedroom, and paced. _Damn. What do I say? Maybe say something with a mild tone? Maybe I hurt him somehow. Did he eavesdrop too? Thank God I haven't said anything bad about him on the phone just now. What should I do?_

Chris knocked on the door and talked as gently as possible: "…Alex? Are you uh…okay?"

When silence answered him, he had an urge to barge the door down like he did with the barricade at the police station. But he chose to be patient with him; he knocked twice again.

"Alex, is everything alright? Are you done yet? Or do you need help? May I c-"

"…you're so unfair, Chris…" _Finally! An answer!_ Chris rolled his eyes. But immediately after that he found that he had to focus quite hard because Alex's voice was very soft.

"…why?"

Chris leaned slightly against the door, giving the talk a fair amount of time before replying: "Alex…what do you mean by 'why'?"

"…why…you're…so kind, and yet…so cold." Chris could almost be sure that he heard something. A whimper? A cry? A rock fell on his gut. Somehow this guy just makes him feel guilty. He put his hands on the door.

"…Alex? Alex. You are under suspicion on these deaths and perhaps a B.O.- I mean a Bio-Organic Weapon case. I-It's a duty to secure the suspect. Anyway…I mean…"

"Ahh…!" Alex howled with grief the moment Chris said that. "Duty…it's always duty. Why is it always duty…just like Mom and Dad…you're no different…Ahh…"

Hesitantly, Chris placed his ears against the heavy wooden door and listened.

For the first time in his life, he heard the weeping of a grown man.

He felt that should be feeling disgusted for putting up with the snivelling of an adult. A whining grown man! But something told him maybe, and an awful lot of maybe, that Alex was not to blame for a single thing he's suspected to have committed even though the odds and circumstances suggest heavily otherwise. Maybe he should trust Alex…or at least express it. "Alex…I'm sure you didn't do it." Besides, he owed Alex for saving him from the big burly man earlier, but that was the only thing he could say. He felt terribly guilty.

"…no…it's all my fault…"

"No, Alex. It's not. If you're innocent, you'll go free."

"…free?" He heard a soft chuckle, then it faded to equally soft sniffles and died down. "It's time."

"Time for what?" Chris stuck his ear closer to the door. "…Alex?" He almost missed the words that Alex whispered.

"…here's…to…freedom."

Something was wrong.

"Alex. Alex!?" Pounding the door with his palm and turning the doorknob with the other hand, Chris's extensive trainings failed him; he panicked. He was sure. He was so sure this was something very grave. But he just didn't know where that feeling came from. Before his imagination could take him further, a giant noise rang through the air of Blake's Lake.

**_BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_**

"_W-hat_ the FU-!"

Chris froze. It sounded like a horn blasting without its limits, yet also like a person screaming in a confined space. It was a terrible, terrible sound. So blaringly loud, yet he could swear hearing like thousands of creepy-crawlies were everywhere around him, skittering closer and closer, fast. But the noise! It made his brain vibrate inside his head, if that even made sense at all. The noise literally confused his body. But Chris knew exactly when to strive when time calls for it. People usually freeze at the most crucial of times, don't they?

"Argh, no time to idle now." Chris readied his stance and charged towards the heavy wooden door. The door sounded like it came off its hinges but stayed in place. "Damn it! Body, stop shaking damn you!" He went to a distance and ran towards the door again, but this time attacking the door with a kick instead. With a crack, the wood around the doorknob gave way and the doorknob fell to the floor with a clank.

If there was a noise, Chris sincerely hoped that there was some kind of noise, ANY type of noise. A scratch, a thump, or even that siren-like blare will do, because every sound in the world had died down the moment that door came down. Like some force was gleefully playing a malevolent prank to duly inform him that something is going to be terribly wrong. Soon.

Chris panted to his thumping heart. He didn't want to see what sight awaited him next, but he pressed on. Stepping into the tiled bathroom, he swallowed. He slowly turned his head to the left where the toilet is.

Red. A big puddle of blood.

"Oh, God…" He stepped quickly towards the lying body and knelt down. He picked up the motionless man, which head hung sideways in his arms as he did so, devoid of any resistance. "What have I done…?"

Chris felt the man's cheeks with his own. He could swear that he had heard the man crying but his cheeks were dry. But more importantly, both colour and heat were draining from his face. Chris glanced down at his cuffed hands; they were both cut with razors that were lying on the floor and the wounds were still weeping with blood…the oh, so fresh blood, shed in the worst way possible. If he didn't know better, he'd suspect Alex has been using a kitchen knife to chop at his wrists, because that exactly what it looked like to him. Both his thumbs and index fingers were also deeply cut from using those blades. The side of his lower lip bled from him biting on it too hard. He had to wonder if that is why he hadn't heard him scream at all. Then it came to him; he had been doing that the whole time he was talking to him? All with a fucking _razor blade_?

_Why did he do something so stupid!?_

"Alex," He patted on the pale face. He felt him exhale. Oh God. It was hard to believe something cold and so deprived of blood still functioning. Chris's stomach threatened to recoil for a second but he held it back. He opened the cabinets of the bathroom and found bandages and medical supplies. _Perfect_. Chris carefully lifted one of Alex's hands and took out his handy first-aid spray. In no time, the blood had stopped flowing off the large red gash. Chris bandaged the other's wrists while Alex breathed lightly.

"You foolish, foolish man…" Chris sprayed another layer of the spray onto the bandages as Alex's fingers and eyes flinched to the sting the liquid gave his wounds. Carefully, Chris carried Alex up and laid him on the bed again. The man was cold. Very pale and cold.

"This is bad…" Chris instinctively took off his shirt and took out his combat knife. Cutting and ripping the black T-shirt out of Alex, he untied the jacket that Alex put in his trust and covered it over the owner. "Here you go, buddy...". He then laid beside Alex, covered the thick bed sheets over them and put his arms carefully around the other. He held him very close, hoping that all that he did would warm Alex even a little from all the blood he had lost.

In mere minutes, Chris felt Alex relaxing and warming up to his body. He felt the other sigh against his skin and snuggle closer to the heat he was offering. Chris smiled with relief. But then his collarbone where Alex's head was felt damp and warm at the same time. The other's chest started heaving quicker from a suppressed sob. Chris frowned. Just how much this man had went through to get so screwed up like this?

"Mom…"

_Huh?_ Chris blushed. How could be in any way resemble a woman!?

"…thanks…Josh…"

Josh again. Chris moved his head to look at Alex's face, but his nose came right into contact with Alex's. "!" Chris stayed motionless as Alex moved. _Oops._

"…Not…again…Josh. We can't…what are…you doing…?"

"…what?" It was then his sensory nerves told his brain that his lips were on the other man's.

"Josh…Josh…no…please…"

Hearing what Alex said was enough to make Chris squirm his head abruptly out of the way without trying to be careful. _Double oops._

"…please don't…don't…tell Dad…"

"I-I'll do it….don't tell…don't…tell…Dad…"

_What is this guy saying?_ Chris wondered when he almost jumped from the wet sensation on his cheek. _What?_ Chris turned to face the perpetrator, only to find that the tongue that was on his face was now effectively in his mouth and entangling itself with him.

"Guh…! Alex…!" Finally pulling his mouth away, he couldn't think of anything but to play along. "Alright, Alex! I won't tell Dad, so stop it already!"

"…thank…you…" There was a half-crying whimper in his voice that Chris really didn't know how to react to. Finally Alex's shaking body calmed down until his chest rose and fell steadily in his arms. All he could think to do was to wipe that one teardrop away from the corner of Alex's eye.

The experience was extremely bizarre for Chris. What just happened? Or more importantly, what kind of family did Alex have? That display was so screwed up! _"He's had it pretty hard."_ What Deputy Wheeler said seemed to echo in his head. Something also stirred inside him, but Chris didn't know what it was. But whatever roused inside him made his heart drop.

"What the heck," Chris rubbed them away and continued to warm the weaker man who turned cold quickly whenever he let go. He felt for his cell phone at the counter beside the bed and typed out a short message.

_**Alex weak but stable. Evac better be on time.**_

He sent it to Jill. In no time, there was a reply:

_**Glad. Have & will still urge HQ to comply. Will contact at 6 to confirm.**_

Chris looked at the clock in his cell and found that it was only slightly over 2 o' clock in the afternoon. He glanced through the closed curtain and saw the grey sky about to rain. Chris groaned. Pulling up the covers over them both, Chris held the frail man tighter. In response, the slumbering Alex put his chilly cuffed hands on Chris's warm chest. "Very good, Alex. That's it, just warm up and sleep. When you wake up, you're gonna explain to me everything. Every single thing." whispered Chris as he ruffled the man's hair and took in the aroma; it was not disgusting despite the sweat and other trivialities from going through the day. It smelled like… mild moisture yet with a certain warmth to it that made him smile. Then he remembered. It was almost the same smell of the beddings Alex had personally prepared for them back at the inn.

_That's nice. Smells like fresh-misted water in the dawning sun._

…_whatever that means._

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	11. Vision Tribulation

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.**

**Notes: I've realized how hard it is to write a chapter, polish it, polish it, and re-polish it again. I'm anal in the most stupid things. Comment if you will, but more importantly, try to relax and just enjoy it. See ya all.  
><strong>

**P.S: Kudos to all those fast-updating authors out there. I really don't know how you do it!**

**Chapter 9 very slightly amended. Nothing big.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 11: Vision Tribulation

"Agent…Agent Redfield…!"

"Hrmm…" Chris grunted and rubbed his eyes. "…what is it?" His groggy eyes shot wide open at a flying Alex. Wait. He wasn't flying, but more like floating in the air.

"Alex, why are you…" Chris reached out his hand but met a little _clink_ and came to a cold hard stop. Chris felt the space with both of his palms. It was cool and hard. He came to realize that an invisible cold glass surface were separating the two, and Chris could hear bubbling and realized that Alex was in water, but somehow still breathing and talking to him while gliding around.

"Redfield. Listen to me." Alex looked intently at him while he stopped swimming around. "I know this sounds very stupid, but I need you to hear what I have to say."

Confused. He was really confused. This must be a hallucination. This must be. How did he get here in the first place? He could see that the man was naked but he didn't really register seeing his privates. Everything was white. So bright. Chris had his trusty handgun on his hand but somehow he felt that he shouldn't shoot to break the barrier and held onto it firmly in his right hand.

"Chris?" _Whoosh._ Alex glided to hover in front of him.

"Yeah?" Chris's mouth dropped open to let out the word. He couldn't move. Maybe he was too in awe to move? Alex looked so serene. He wasn't smiling. In fact, Chris didn't remember he _ever_ did. But he looked at peace. And his usually spiritless eyes were fully opened, not cast down like he always do and was looking straight into Chris's eyes. In fact, this must be the first time he heard Alex say full sentences without any pauses or unconfident stutters in between.

Angel. The way he just moved reminded him of an angel somehow. Ha. Why was he here in the first place again?

"I always wanted to say...Thankyou, Chris." Alex held up his right hand to touch the invisible barrier between them. Chris was still stunned. But his left arm was functional and he held it up to connect their palms through the glass wall. "I'm glad I've met you and Jill…if only I had met you sooner…" Chris's mouth was slightly open, unable to say a single word.

"But it's time to let go," Alex slowly backed down and laid down floating in mid-water. "Or else, you won't forgive me…" Alex said something else but Chris could not hear a thing. He only heard the loudening bubbling and sloshing. But somehow his heart was starting to pound with alarm. Alex started to close his eyes while looking at Chris at the corner of his eye. All Chris could do was stare helplessly with his hand on the invisible wall as his eyes began to flow uncontrollably with tears. Somehow inside him he knew Alex was weakening, and dying as Alex's body arched upwards, mouth opening as the last effort to breathe, like a fish out of water while ironically being in water himself.

Suddenly there was a splash and a few figures entered from the top. They started swimming around gracefully.

Mermaids…? They have fins, no…

No…

_Oh God._ They were not fins, but two feet fused together. _Oh God._

They started to swim around Alex. Alex's body was unmoving for a second before starting to convulse violently.

_Get away from him…Get away from him! Why can't I move or talk!? Damn it!_

Of the three of the figures circling Alex, one of them swam faster and faster…and charged towards Chris at full speed.

_OH GOD!_

It had no face. A large gape slit from top to bottom of the face was filled with sharp teeth where the facial features would be.

That was all he could make out before the "mermaid" clawed at the barrier with a ear-piercing screech.

** _SHRIEK_ **

_What?..._ Chris balanced himself, struggling to stand straight with blurred eyes and a staggered mind.

_Oh…That scream…_

Horrible scream. That scream was horrible. Horrible! Loud would be a misstatement _and_ an understatement. Was that actually the creature's voice or was it the sound of rusty metal scratching glass?

He lifted his heavy eyes, and there was Alex, thrashing as one of the creature dove at him and-

_Oh God. This is just like a Piranha movie… _

The next swimming monster lunged at Alex with open arms (and extremely long…metal fingers?), then the next came after the other, then another, and another…Red slits appeared on the man's body whenever a creature swam away from him. He saw Alex covering his slit upper arm and right abdomen, turning away each time he was slashed as he had no hands left to shield himself with. The damned creatures did not stop. Then came the screams. Sobbing screams that came each time a creature touched the victim. When he dared to look up, the water around Alex was starting to cloud up in red, and he was just unfortunate enough to catch the glimpse of two creatures lunging at Alex's back and side with their non-existent face while the third one jerked away with blood trailing from its head. One millisecond of it and he saw it all. Seconds turn to minutes, minutes turn to forever.

_I am not watching this I am _ _NOT_ _ watching this! Move, body damn it! MOVE!_

Chris prayed frantically in his mind that someone or something would make this short. Save him, kill him; whatever to shorten the time he had to watch Alex suffer.

_No. This is not happening! No! How did we get here?! Why is this happening?! Why is he suffering like that?! _ _Why can't I move?! Why can't I move?!_

Scratches lead to slashing. Slashes came to gouging, gouging turned into ripping actual flesh. Crimson spread downwards in front of him; he was too glazed to care, eyes clouded with his state of denial. If those creatures could laugh at his helplessness, they would. As brutal as they were, one of them stayed in mid-water with it's…sharp metallic fingers stretched out and pointed towards Alex's back, and then it- oh God, slid almost naturally into Alex's back when he was jerking back from another slash to his chest. These monsters were not mindless. They know how to torture…And they're _enjoying_ this.

He thought he was willing his numb body to move when his stomach trembled and his fingers twitched, but his mind told him "NO!" - It was the direct opposite. It was HIM who was fighting NOT to move when his fingers were audibly crackling from the force they were protesting his unconscious efforts to keep them down. It was funny because he did not remember deliberately fighting against his body keep himself from moving; he _wanted_ to move. Now that he had realized that, he did not know _why_. But now he knew that his fingers were itching to curl up since those swimming creatures started to feed. But _why_? It HAD to have something to do with those creatures. But _what_?

Eyes glued to the grotesque mermaids, his stomach dropped when a chunk of flesh floated away from the shoulder and sunk right in front of him.

_The other one…that other one's gonna go for his gut…_

_Swish._ Weary eyes closed, the mind and ears fully comprehending and seeing the image in their stead. He peeked. The man inside this…tank was doubling up just as the culprit was swimming away. He knew it was going for that part of him. God, it was even more excruciating to…_sense_ it than to see it. This must be a dream right? Because how were these sensations even possible? He's not under some kind of drug trip! Unless someone slipped him something. But he knew it wasn't possible. How long was he going to be made to watch this? He didn't want to, but something told him that something very bad will happen if he allowed his disobedient struggling body to move.

Panic rammed at him when one of them swam in front of the squirming human…

_He's going to…wait, it's…no! No!_

…and dove straight between his legs…

_"AHHHHHHH!"_

**_BANG_**  
><em><strong> CRASH<strong>_  
>"AHH!" Chris shot up, breathing desperately in wheezing pants. He…could move?<p>

"Ah…" He ran his hand over his face. Bed. Yes. Bed. No white heavenly surroundings, no invisible tank, no water. Bedroom. Dark as hell. Yes. _Oh…_

His cell phone was vibrating on the counter. Chris jumped, realized what it was and groaned when taking the phone.

"…Hello, Jill?"

"Goodness! What in the world happened? You sound awful. And I've called two times before you bothered to pick up too! What's going on?"

"…uh…Just cut to the quick, Jill. Please."

"Well, okay. I've urged the HQ as promised. Instead of tomorrow, they'll manage to send in choppers in two hours. I've marked your location for them. Just make sure you're not in some embarrassing position when they come."

"Really?" Chris sat up, sounding more energetic. "Wait. Come again?"

He could almost see Jill making a face when she repeated her part of the conversation.

"Oh? Oh. Damn, I- Thanks again, Jill. And uh…sorry for earlier. Bad dream."

"No problem, partner. I agree with getting out the town quicker. It just gives me the chills."

"Right. Thanks."

Chris let out a huge sigh of relief. He flipped the switch at the bedside counter and pale white lights lit up. He glanced to Alex, who was awake and looking at him.

"G-Gwhoa!" He almost fell off the bed in shock, hitting his elbow against the counter. He grabbed the head of bed and how it creaked! He had to push against the counter to pick himself away from the edge of the bed.

"I-I'm sorry." Alex apologized. Chris was too busy coughing on some saliva that went down the wrong way to respond. Man, somehow even startling the man alone was enough to make him feel guilty. In his opinion, the soldier looks a bit older than his age, and more so with a lot of blood drained off him. Chris felt sorry for the guy for whatever he went through to look so down, but he did not forget to remind himself not to soften at appearances alone.

"It's fine…How are you feeling?"

I'm just falling off a bed. How are you feeling instead from the grief I caused you?

_No! Bullshit! He's just weak and stupid, that's all! _

Alex raised his brows from Chris's sudden change. "Agent Redfield?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"Huh? Why'd you ask that?"

"…Nothing. You just looked a bit…different for a second."

"Different?" Chris barely even remembered what he did to look …different. "If anyone's needed to be looked at, it's you." He palmed Alex's forehead. Sweaty, pores seemingly opened wide; his skin was basically breathing like a track-worn athlete. He has healed quickly from the spray, but was dehydrating fast because of it. "You okay?"

"F-Fine…but still a little cold."

"Oh. Whoops." Chris plopped back into the covers and slid his arm under Alex's neck and over his shoulder.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Warming you up." Chris replied honestly. "We've been like this the whole time when you were sleeping. Trust me, with the way your pores are all opened up like that, you'll get sick very quickly if you're cold."

"…I'm not cold anymore."

"Yeah right," Chris chuckled. "Says the one who's still shivering. Look, don't worry. No one's gonna tease you for being weak." He took a look at the face Alex was making and chuckled again. That man looked so conflicted and embarrassed! He took another look and he just couldn't help it – he chortled into a laugh.

"Wh-what are you even laughing at!" Chris muffled his laughter into the covers between them, Alex's embarrassed outburst too much to hold back.

"God, oh God, hah-HAhahahah! Y-you know oh God…You know," flicking off a tear, he inhaled and exhaled a big gasp of air slowly, although a giggle escaped when he let the air out. "You know, I'm not sure why I laughed, but that was funny. Oh God, what was I going to say? I remember it was something serious, but your reaction kind of caught me off guard."

"…Right…" The man fidgeted uncomfortably over his arm. "Can you…This is awkward."

"Yeah," Chris rested his head on the pillow. "I've been in even crazier shit, but nothing beats this one. Think about it: Beautiful, peaceful countryside, coming here expecting an investigation but grown into a full-blown attack…"

"…And those were nothing. I've been through all of that before." He waved his right hand, swatting the past experiences away almost like tangible pages of his history in the air. "The most surprising thing of all though, is you."

The atmosphere died down. Eyes searched Chris's face for answers. The man was quiet alright, but a gasp escaped his lips when his hands - his cuffed hands were held by Chris's. When his hands were lifted from under the safety of the blanket, his sight shifted from his hands to Chris, and his chest was starting to heave. Chris sighed. The man looked confused, afraid even. Like his cuffed hands were his privates exposed out in the open for everyone to see.

"I've never thought I'd go through this again…" Chris ran his free hand over his own face and sighed. "You…" The grip on the cuffed hands tightened. He could hear gritting of teeth and a nervous swallow of the cuffed man. "You remind me of…someone." Alex understandingly kept quiet, but loosened up his arms' muscles just a bit.

"So much has happened, but…I…I really want to trust you, Alex. I-I really do." He sighed a shaky sigh. "After all of this hell that's dragged on for a decade…I'm really tired of holding people around me with caution anymore. I really want to trust again. I really want to trust…you." His eyes cleared out of his paradoxical recollections and found the man staring questioningly at him, making Chris realize that he was telling things that he wasn't supposed to be telling a person he had snapped handcuffs on. Besides, it was simply a bottle of hurt that should have been kept in the Aisle of Forgotten Memories or the I-Don't-Give-a-Damn part of his brain, like he promised himself to do.

"Wait, I'll go get something." Chris stood up hastily as he put the jacket and covers over Alex and exited the room quickly. He went down the stairs, and as soon as water rushed down into the glass in the kitchen, he exhaled a sigh of relief. Chris was no face-reader like Jill, but he knew enough that Alex's opened mouth was about to ask the forbidden question; it was a page of the book that he hoped he had actually torn away but the contents were already imprinted into his head, still haunting him.

_Captain…_

He slapped his gloved hand over his breathing orifices, shutting his eyelids hard and tensing up his souring facial muscles, refusing to admit defeat. _Why?_

_Captain…!_

* * *

><p>Soon, the door opened and Chris emerged with a glass of water. Ahh, those eyes again. Looking between him and the glass. What did he expect…poison in the water or something? This man must be a very reserved person who'd rather form conclusions from his own head than duking it out in words, because his eyes were fervently asking questions but his mouth was not. "Hey."<p>

"Um, yeah. Hey." Alex responded.

"Here." Chris gave the glass full with water and handed it to Alex. Alex stared, not yet coming to understanding on Chris's actions. Chris glanced down at the bandages on Alex's wrists. He then sat on the side of the bed, took out a few dark-coloured pills from a pack on his belt and lifted them to Alex's mouth. "Here, take them. You'll need to sustain yourself with something; it's a B.S.A.A.-exclusive stuff for long missions and emergencies. The effects are immediate. Hah! Our boys call em' our 'instant food'. Even the military don't have this, you know." Chris explained proudly. "Here…" he lifted the pills in his cupped hand to Alex's face. Alex's eyelid twitched as the handcuff's chains clinked, pain clearly coming up with every movement he tried to make with his hands. "Don't force yourself. You're hurt." Alex grunted, but took the pills obediently. Chris put the glass to Alex's lips and he drank. "Alright. A glass is all you get. The pills' effect will be diluted if you drink too much." After he put the empty glass away, Chris skilfully turned the man to the side swiftly and pressed on his lower back.

"Nngh…" Alex cringed, surprised. Chris put light pressure at different areas as Alex emitted the same moans. "How is it?"

There was no answer because Alex was too busy biting on the pillow to reply.

"Alex?"

"Ngh-yea?! Oww!"

"Oh boy. I don't know how to put this nicely, but you'll have to brace yourself for this, okay?"

"Owh…! Why didn't you do that when I was not awake?!"

"If I could, I would. But the bleeding on your wrists was so bad I had to spray them to stop you from draining yourself dry. Then like any other drug, I can't use the spray too often, especially when you're healing in your sleep."

"Spray?"

"Yes, a first-aid spray. Heals almost everything very quickly, but it takes up a lot of existing nutrients from your body to repair the damage, so you'll need a proper diet later. But you can thank yourself for hacking your wrists so badly that you're so tired now. I mean how did you even manage to do that with only _razor blades_?

Alex groaned. "Save me the lecture."

"But I've let you eat those brown pills now to instantly replenish whatever it can, because you need to fix your back, and quickly too."

Alex groaned and lied back on the bed once more, trying to relax. "When?" Was the feeble question Alex croaked brokenly.

"Now."

"Wait-whawhat? No-hey-!" His protests were cut off when his body was pushed and in an instant his nose was in the sheets. "Mmph- Wait wait! How can _this_ be fixed by _an agent_ in a _bedroom_?!"

"You'll be surprised," Came the reply, as Alex saw him taking out a fresh syringe from his pack, uncapping the needle, and withdrawing a big amount of clear-yellowish fluid from a glass vial. He tapped the syringe and squirted some air out of it. It was not before Chris pushed a relatively big roll of rolled-up handkerchief into his mouth that Alex started to fidget in panic.

"Weidamingid! H-hewb! Ngo! Lenge gho! Ghem you!"

"It doesn't matter what you say, Shepherd. You know this is for your own good." Chris had to get up to the bed sit on the man's thighs and pin the man's shoulder blades to the pillow before discharging some of the fluid in the syringe to the injured area on Alex's side to disinfect it. The cool sensation alarmed Alex very much and he tried to struggle, but Chris was fortunate that Alex's hands were already double-locked down in front of his stomach by both the cuffs and the weight of their bodies.

"Relax. We have no time. I can't explain now but this _has_ to be done immediately after taking those pills. I'm sorry, but you'll thank me later."

"Ngo! No you ghasdardD-AAAAAAAAGHHH!"

Chris personally was never injected with this before, but he's seen others being administered this. The only difference was that they were unconscious, so this improvisation of injecting the medication into the injury before the replenishment pills were used up inside the man's system was better than nothing. If that injury wasn't treated, it would end up being inflamed deep under his skin…not if he was there to stop that from getting worse, that is.

It worked. It was amazing how science has advanced so fast nowadays. When the fluid was injected into the injury, immediately a healthier hue of red bruising spread from beneath the skin to replace the deep purple-and-brown patch. Smashed blotches of what remained of his veins were starting to re-form again. The man's screams of agony beneath him echoed in the room even with the cloth in his mouth. But in every good comes the necessary evil most of the time. If the injury patched up that fast, imagine what the pain would be like. Must have been like searing iron. No painkillers, and the still-healing tissue was going to feel very sore and raw, but this was better than no treatment at all. Much better.

Chris moved away from the body. "You okay?" He patted the man in the neck. He was sweating and moaning a lot, albeit weakly. He took out the now-wet cloth from his mouth and repeated his question. "Hey, you alright?"

Alex breathed hard: "…f…fuck you."

Chris had to chuckle. Thank God it worked.

* * *

><p>"Nn…ah… oh-howw…"<p>

Alex was still groaning and hissed in air sharply a couple of times with his hurt side up from whatever kind of pain he was in. Even though he'd been going around doing random things trying to distract himself, Chris still felt a bit guilty for it nevertheless.

"Hey…I know it hurts like a bitch, but it's really healed up quite well. It's pretty raw now, though. Don't move too much."

Alex hissed from his pain again, but replied with much effort: "I know…Thanks."

"Hey, no problem," Chris patted on his trusty white jacket to look for his handgun. "I almost forgot…someone will pick us up in about two hours. So you can just rest-"

"You're so stupid, you know."

"Huh?" Looking up, Chris stared at Alex while holding his handgun, forgetting what he was about to do with it.

He saw Alex was looking at his once bloodied wrists, emanating the words _you should have left me to die_, but still thanking the other with a rebellious hint.

"Don't do that again, Alex." Chris broke the silence. "I truly believe…in the end, everything will turn out fine. Just don't give up in the middle of it." He wore his shirt and went back into the covers to contribute some heat to the injured man.

"Hmph. You sound like a single-minded super hero." He said that, but he was thankful, shown by the way he leaned in on the heat Chris was offering.

"Why am I always being called the single-minded one?" Chris pouted. "I'm not no brains and all brawn, you know."

"Well why don't you take the superhero word in the sentence as a compliment then? That proves that you _are_ single-minded."

"…Then why did you try something so stupid when there's hope that you're innocent?" Chris held up Alex's bandaged wrist as both hands went up with the cuffs.

"…" Stunned from Chris's unexpected conduct and arresting words, Alex couldn't reply. He found that Chris was looking intently at him with empathy in his eyes. "I…" Alex glanced away without finishing, face red. "You…you won't understand."

"Look, I don't know what reason you have," Chris rested his hand on Alex's jacket-draped shoulder. "But you've thrown away your safety for the sake of your country once; don't you have all the right to value your life now?"

Immediately after hearing that, Alex turned his head to the side and snorted, with almost pure certainty when he said: "Hmph…How could I…My existence only brings death and destruction. It's a curse…"

Chris felt something pinch his heart. Seeing him using vocabulary like that was unnerving. And how could he _say_ something like that? He supposed that that kind of reply wasn't that surprising since someone here was seeing a psychologist, but to be actually seeing a man effortlessly disregard his own life like that in front of him was just sad. After him giving those encouraging words to Alex, it then came to him that Alex's psychological help made sense if coupled with his military experience. Many soldiers couldn't handle the memories of their military lives and went down to depths of depression, if not madness. It all kind of made sense. A lot, actually.

Oh God, had he just misunderstood the guy so much that he arrested him? But what's done is done, and the things that were happening didn't exactly paint Alex in snowy-white either.

"Alex," Chris shook his shoulder firmly to make Alex look at him. "Soldiers fight for their country. And that includes fighting for themselves when they're _not_ on the battlefield." Chris shook Alex slightly. "Trust me, if you're really innocent here, I'll make sure no one will say otherwise anymore. I'll fight for it."

"…Wheeler mentioned a lot about you…" Alex said after a bit of hesitation. There was a glad tone in his voice. "He said you're one of the organization's founders. Now I can see why he called you a real fighter, huh."

Chris felt a sense of relief washing over him; Alex sounded like he had more strength in his spirit now. Chris patted his shoulder: "You're not that bad yourself. You really saved me from that big guy back there, with your injury and all…um…ah…"

_That kind of injury… _He felt ripped tissue and displaced muscle on the soldier's back. Yeah, allowing the guy to do his business in the toilet first was a better option, because there would be no holding back when the improvised treatment starts and he would have ripped his bowels if he were holding some excretions back while Chris worked. But who would have guessed when he was allowed into the bathroom, Alex would…Ahhh, he was still angry at himself that he let Alex go out alone to the streets. If he had not done that, none of this would have happened in the first place.

"Uh…thanks…I mean. Even with all this…development and all…You are a true soldier."

"…Thanks, I guess…" Alex shrugged. "…I'm not a real soldier like _you_, but I guess the mind does wonderful things." Did he blush too? Wow. Someone's never been praised before here. Chris was sure that his own face felt puffy too. It was awkward to thank a guy he suspected, arrested, and even kind of drove to suicide, but at least Chris was honest about his thanks. He was just relieved that he could express his thoughts correctly for once.

"Oh, come on." Chris laughed. "You're so humble it hurts."

"…" Slowly, Alex nudged himself off Chris and sat up.

"Hey, you okay?" Worried, Chris sat up as well.

"Yeah." Alex supported himself by pushing against the bed with his hands. He looked into Chris's eyes intently for a moment before sitting up and looking down. To Chris, yet again those eyes caught him in a seizing hold. That look was all-telling that Alex was mulling over, almost with every fibre of his being, on whether he was going to tell whatever he was going to tell him. Whatever it was, Chris was ready beyond anything to hear what he had to say.

"What is it?" He draped Alex's old jacket over his back and shoulders and sat back, waiting for him to spill it.

"I need to tell you something...it's about the children's murders around here. It's-…no," He fidgeted in uncertainty. "…you won't understand."

Chris held both of Alex's shoulders firmly. "What don't I understand? Hey, look at me." The other man did not. Instead, he shut his eyes tightly, as if the first thing he'll see when he opened them were the last. "Come on, I'm begging you here. I really want to trust you- no, I mean I _do_, but you can't keep doing this."

Alex's eyelids squeezed shut even tighter than before, and as if he had came to terms with something, his shut eyes relaxed as a long deep sigh was released. The two stayed there wordless, the only audible noise was the handcuffs jangling and Alex steadying his nervous breathing.

Alex's trembling lips parted.

"…I'll turn myself in."

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	12. Fleeting Reality

**Disclaimer: All respective characters and relevant ideas and concepts (stupid of me right? Ideas and concepts count too.) unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.**

**Notes: I don't even know how I managed to finish this chapter. I have so much things in my head it's threatening to explode! But one could only write so fast. I'm impatient and my head is filled with ideas. Bad combo, folks. A bad, bad combo. Now let's hope there's no typos and stuff here this time.  
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**As this is mostly a mystery-themed and angsty piece of work, so I hope you readers out there can be patient and just take in whatever I try to convey to you, and then relax and enjoy if you find this a good read. Lastly, if you feel like it, please comment/review because it's the _only _way I know how this story looks in your eyes, because to be honest with you, I think my writing is crap. Completed chapter, but still, I wish I could have done more, but aww crap.  
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**Happy New Year!  
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* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 12: Fleeting Reality

"What are you saying! What do you mean you'll turn yourself in?" Chris's eyes flew wide open. Panic drove his heart to his throat and his lungs, deflated. "Didn't you say you're innocent?"

Alex did not reply. _No, this couldn't be happening._ He had not told him that deep down at the very core he did not really believe Alex would be capable of all these gruesome murders. His belief was shaken by the chain of circumstances that put Alex into suspicion; that was why his faith in Alex should have been crushed at the very moment Alex said he will turn himself in. But for some reason Alex's inferred confession made Chris's conviction even stronger.

"Stop assuming anything. I never said 'innocent' or 'guilty'. Just…stop thinking too much and coming to so many conclusions."

"But, but…No."

"Even after all of this has happened?" Alex half-laughed in disbelief at Chris's demeanour, but reverted to being placid again when he saw how much aspiration Chris had in his eyes, as if ashamed of himself. "…you won't believe me if I told you otherwise anyway."

"NO! I believe you!" Buff arms and large chest held Alex in a firm embrace. The startled man pushed against the body, but to no avail. "I believe you! Stop it, Alex. Please…just stop!"

"What do you mean by 'stop'! Let go!" As hard as he tried to struggle, his efforts were less helpful than a girl trying. His strength and balance were essentially lost because of his lower spinal cord and a very, very sore and painful back. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

"Alex…I know what I'm doing," Chris replied softly, still clinging on to Alex. "I've met someone who I really admired…But he was so far broken that…that I just couldn't do anything to help him. In the end, we became enemies and…and I had to kill him myself…We could have became the best of friends…"

With that being said, Alex's struggles stopped. Chris continued: "I-I don't want to see that happen again. I just can't…" Chris's grip loosened slowly and Alex was lowered to lie down again.

"You-…" Alex stayed unmoving, looking at the sight above him as he felt a warm sensation on his face.

The muscle-man hero was shedding tears.

"Please, Alex. No more. I don't want to see another man fall like that. It's just too sad…"

"…"

"I-I..."Realizing what he was doing, Chris hastily wiped off his face and turned away. "I'm sorry. God, this is awkward…I-I never lost myself this way before. I-I..."

Muttering under his breath at it was the creepy town's atmosphere's fault, Chris's cell phone vibrated on the counter. It was a call from Jill. _Saved by the phonecall. _Chris sniffed slightly and cleared his throat before taking the call with immense relief from the embarrassing situation he just put himself into.

"Hey, Jill. What's-"

"Chris, where's Alex?" Jill sounded breathless and alarmed. "Where is he? Where's Alex?"

"Whoa, whoa, Jill. He's here," Chris glanced to Alex who was looking at him worriedly at his conversation. "What's going on?"

"I, I don't even know why I even asked that…Chris," Jill was panting. "The Deputy's not here."

"What?"

"We've arrived but the first thing I see is Shelley's Valley's _covered_ in these 'wanted' posters with Alex's name on it. They were not around before we left."

"Wait, wait. What?" Chris tried to absorb one bad news after another. As if things weren't bad enough!

"I don't know how to put this…this is so strange…" Jill groaned in frustration as she tried to collect her thoughts. "Okay. Let me get this straight. There's not only suspicion of Alex killing children, we also have posters all around town telling us he's a child serial killer. Then there's one more very important thing."

"What is it?"

"The posters, Chris. They want Alex alive and alive only."

"What…? That's…strange."

"Yes, that's what I thought too. A-and the Deputy. He could have contacted if there was trouble, so why didn't he? And…"

"…and what?" All Chris could do now was listen helplessly.

"It may be just my wild imagination going off radar. I just can't trust anyone now. I don't think the Deputy's in trouble. I believe he's hiding something from us. Either Alex is in real danger or he's really dangerous. I don't know if you should actually stay with him or get away from him."

Chris glanced to Alex. "Don't be crazy. Nothing's gonna happen, alright?"

"I don't know Chris. I just feel so anxious right now. I'm really creeped out. It's more than surveillance cameras and someone behind the scenes in the control room. It's like everything's happening like we feared." Jill really sounded like she believed all these nonsense, he thought. But if Jill was that affected by all these things, Chris told himself to be more alert, even if it's just for her sake. Because you never know, a woman's instinct is sometimes so accurate it's scary.

"Nonsense, Jill. Didn't we feel the same thing when we were in the mansion as S.T.A.R.S.?" Chris assured her. "As soon as everything was revealed, nothing was scary anymore, wasn't it? I trust this time's the same."

"Well alright." Jill heaved a sigh. "I was too brash. I really like Alex. Keep an eye on him, will you? But remember if something happens-"

"Yes, yes." Chris replied jokingly with some impatience. "Call you, wait for you to save me, and run like a coward. Or do you have anything else to suggest?"

"Argh, I'll smack you when you come back!" Jill had to laugh. "Alright. See you soon. And remember to bring Alex back with you safely."

"Riiight," Chris smiled into the phone. "Of course. I wouldn't want to lose your man for you. You may not meet another in a million years, right?"

"Wha-! Don't tease me like that!" Jill sneered. "I know I'm a soldier but can't I dream a little too? Alright. Stay safe."

Chuckling, Chris pocketed his phone. He exhaled and took in a new breath of air. He had to face Alex after that call. It was back-to-business time.

Oh boy.

What a killjoy.

"Something's happened," Alex's voice was monotonous, emotionless. Lifeless.

"…Yes." Chris turned to Alex, wary. "Now, proving your innocence will be more important than ever."

Alex did not act nervous or worried. He just lied there on his side, staring into nothing. Chris didn't know whether he was trying to act brave or if he was truly courageous. And innocent.

Chris decided he had enough. He sat beside the bed where Alex was. "Look, soldier. Things are not looking well for you. You have to talk and you'd better talk now."

After his continued stare into the air for a few more seconds, Alex finally spoke.

"Agent Redfield…I want to make a deal."

* * *

><p>"What? How does this even matter?"<p>

"Let's just say I'm curious. It's a good deal, isn't it?"

"…You're willing to tell me everything just for me telling you about who you reminded me of?"

"It sounded like something hard for you to tell. But makes the deal fair all the more, doesn't it?"

Chris eyed him curiously. "The easier, the higher chance of trickery. What are you up to?"

Alex giving that "I'm tired of this" look gave Chris more surprise than answers. "Wait. You're serious."

Alex's nodded. Chris couldn't believe it. Can things really be so simple? "Isn't this a bit too easy?"

"Yeah, it is. Is this deal on or off?"

* * *

><p>Chris tried to stall time. He really did. He unlocked one of the man's cuffs so he could wear this new black t-shirt he found in the closet, he made him wear his jacket again …<em>God, I'm really pathetic! Why can't I do this?<em>

Well, it happened. Alex asked the forbidden question in the form of a trade deal: Who he reminded Chris of?

His own sob story to trade for Alex's story-slash-confession huh. Sounds easy, except that it _was_ a _sob_ story. Not that he ever literally sobbed like a girl on it, it's just harder to get it out than he initially thought it would be, and now he absolutely _needed_ it. "Can things be this easy", huh? He reminded himself to quit hoping for something like that in the future; it is just simply impossible in reality.

** _Nothing_ ** _ comes easy. It **never** comes easy! Damn it!_

He sat inside the covers and resumed his job of checking up on Alex. He had to wipe his forehead again; the man is sweating quite a lot. "You okay?" Sitting against the headboards, eyes closed, mouth dry and sweating, he groaned, but nodded his head. "Hey, get down here and stay in the covers. You're cold." Alex nodded quietly, and did as was told. Chris had to wipe off more cold sweat from his face. As soon as Alex relaxed, the violent shivers came. _Oh boy._ Just a few moments of not providing Alex with his own body heat was enough to render him cold and sickly. He had to hug him like a long-lost brother, and stick himself onto the other like glue to warm up the man. Alex trembled just a bit more but the shivers eventually subsided in the envelope of warmth. "Uhh…I feel like shit."

"I can imagine. You sure you're up for it to hear my story?"

"Yeah," said Alex with more conviction than necessary, both of his hands clasped onto his shirt.

Chris had to clear his throat. "…I don't know where to start. Why are we even doing this?"

Alex laughed. A very small chortle, like he expected Chris to say that. "You're hopeless. I get my story, you get mine. It's that simple."

"Look, I'm trying, okay? Why don't you give me a lead to start with?"

"Hmm…why don't you start with why do I remind you of him? Like, do I look like him? Or…?"

"Believe me, you look _nothing_ like him. Thank God for that, or else I'll be having nightmares before I even get to sleep."

"So what does he look like?"

"Tall, blond, tall…taller than both of us, in fact. Hmm…Charming. Captivating. Lone wolf." He swallowed before continuing. "Very competent worker, great leader. Superior intelligence, wears sunglasses all the time, a handsome devil and the bastard knows it. Man, it's funny I'm still praising him with him being the guy that he was."

"You sound like you liked him a lot."

"Back then, yes. I…you can say that. He was really everything I strived to be, you know. Then he started to reveal his true nature. A manipulator. A mad scientist. A guy with a god complex. An evil, evil son of a bitch. I've gone on a decade-old wild goose chase with him just to bring him down. Then on the last operation I shot him down into a volcano with my partner."

"A volcano?" Sounding disbelieving and excited at the same time, Chris chuckled at Alex's reaction. It was like a father telling a kid a bluffed-up superhero story. He patted Alex in the back. "Oh, it has an explanation. I'll tell you later." He paused for a few seconds.

"…it seemed like the right thing to do, I mean- it _was_ the right thing to do, to blow him up in that place. He didn't care how many lives he had taken before he died. He was attacking us too, not like we had a choice or anything. Kind of fits that analogy of rotting in hell, which he deserves to be. He's such a callous guy too. Guess that volcano ought to warm that cold heart of his a bit. Now that I think of it, maybe the reason he's such a good leader was _exactly_ because of that unfeeling heart. Nothing could have ruffled him. Damn…!" Chris sighed heavily. "Argh. Can I stop? This is very hard to do."

"You still admire him, don't you?"

A cold, hard stop.

_Pfft. No?!_

"No way!"

"Alright, alright. No need to be so defensive about it."

Chris clamped his lips together shut. He had accidentally let his thoughts slip.

"I can see from the moment you started on his bad points, it's like you have no choice but to keep scolding away. Like you either have to completely love him or completely hate him. Did you really admire him that much?"

"Admire him? Don't be ridiculous."

"Don't lie." Alex tugged at his shirt with a chuckle.

"Alright, okay. Maybe you're right. Maybe I really do, I mean, admire him. Without the bad points, that is. Happy?"

"Yeah. Happy." Alex breathed in and smiled. "So…what did he do?"

"Ohhh boy, here goes." Chris rubbed his eyes at the old memories he was forced to retrieve. But he had no choice. A deal is a deal. Besides, once he had started, he was really on a roll and story by story kept pouring out in a chain reaction. He briefly told him about S.T.A.R.S. (He even took the time to decipher the abbreviation for him and why it was named that way), about how he was so excited back then to be accepted in a newly-formed police force fresh from being kicked out from the military. He remembered how his captain Albert Wesker, though seemingly the intelligent, paperwork-type, could be out on the battlefield kicking major ass.

And after two years was the incident that started everything: The Arklay Mansion. He had to chuckle a bit at how mortified he was the first time he saw a living corpse. He skipped most of the events of the night until the part where they discovered the underground laboratory under the mansion and Wesker's role in all of the monstrosities they found in there. He had no time to let his dead captain's treachery sink in because they were fighting to survive the bio-organic weapon that killed Wesker, which he had ironically intended for Chris and Jill in the first place. He also mentioned the Rockfort Island incident where he found that his former captain was alive and more than kicking with his body resurrected and super-strengthened by a virus he had taken. Chris then got to the event where he lost Jill eight years later in the confrontation he had with the long-lost foe; Jill had sacrificed herself to tackle the man out of the window of the mansion of Ozwell E. Spencer, the main man behind the evil Umbrella Corporation, just before Wesker was about to kill him. He then told Alex the most recent mission he had in Kijuju two years after that incident, which was one of the most eventful one of them all. He got Jill back (Chris did not miss out the fact that he was forced to fight her because of Wesker's brainwash), stopped his former captain's plan from spreading Uroboros virus to the whole planet and blown the son of a bitch to smithereens.

"So in other words you've saved the world."

Chris's forgot where he was at the story and lifted his head. "Huh?"

"I mean you saved the _whole planet_, Agent Redfield." Chris had to pause for a good six seconds before dawning on what Alex had just said. Hmm, he never thought of it that way before. He plopped his head back on the pillow, bewildered and rejuvenated by realizing the new perspective of things. "Hmm, I guess I did." was the only reply Chris could think of at the moment.

"Wow. Seriously? That's all you think about yourself? Holy shit. I practically have the biggest hero of all time here with me. Just, wow. To think that Wheeler picked you out of all the people he could pick…he's really gone over the top this time."

"Chill with the compliments, Shepherd. You know I'm not going to soften up on this arrest of yours."

"Way to ruin the mood, you ass. I was serious." Alex gave Chris's chest a slightly-annoyed push and pulled away from the hug. "But this Wesker guy…I could never imagine a virus being used to strengthen…I've always thought that it can only cause sickness and death. Bio-organic weapons too. I can imagine gas bombs and all that, but making monsters out of viruses is also _way_ out of my league."

"That's the magic of science right there. In a bad way."

"So how's everything now? You know, now that he's dead and everything."

Chris sighed. "Phew…It's like letting loose a big hoard of mad animals without their keeper. Everything just kind of…blown up, and now there's small fry all around. Occasional big ones, but that's about it. The score might be settled, but the work's not done yet. And we thought after Spencer was dead it was the end. How wrong we were." He rubbed his temples. "Seriously I don't know if that decade of years was supposed to have made me grow or just a total waste of time."

"Sounds like tough work."

"Hm. But what can we do? Either we rot, or clean up all this mess one selfish bastard did. All it took was only one selfish person. Just one…"

"…"

"You're quiet."

"…Selfishness…" Alex mouthed the word in deep thought.

After a moment of silence, Chris pulled up the blankets to cover more of Alex: "Your turn."

"One more question."

"Alright, alright~ Geez! What?" Chris held back the urge to roll his eyes with the earnest pleading eyes Alex was giving him.

"Why do I remind you of him? He doesn't look like me. He doesn't act like me. So…where's the connection here?"

Chris froze for a second. Then he remembered. "Don't get any weird ideas of me forced to kill you off like I did Wesker and all that. I just mean…I just mean that I really like you, Alex. I really think you're a good guy. And I want to trust you. And…I'd like to follow my gut feelings for once and know that they are right."

Saying that somehow made him feel increasingly embarrassed, so he left the bed and stood at the window, looking at the foggy sky between curtains. "Just like I'd like to think Wesker's not all bad, just some issues that made him into what he was, I'd also like to think that you're a good person, too. It's just-… you keep dodging around all the time! It's making it hard for me to believe if you are even a decent man, Alex Shepherd!" Having his back turned to Alex was actually making it easier for him to say what he said.

The streets outside was like the clouds came down and enveloped the whole town. The mood of their conversation was changing, and this blasted weather was not helping one bit.

"I was a sacrificial offering," Glancing at the reflection of the glass window, he could see that Alex started his part of the deal, covering his face with his palms. "And I guess I still am."

"What?" Chris almost bit his own tongue saying that simple word, almost breaking out of his calm. Alex's first words took him completely by surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"I knew you wouldn't believe me," Alex shot a look to Chris's back, like Chris was the stupidest dummy in his world that wouldn't understand a thing. He looked genuinely frustrated in the glass pane. "You don't believe in monsters and demons, do you! Forget it. I shouldn't even bring this up."

"Well, I would say I believe some people are monsters themselves and are worse like demons…but what are you talking about?" He looked down on the street. It was almost…gone. He could see the road but anything above it was gone in the fog. Damn. Looking outside wasn't helping at all.

Alex half-groaned but continued: "To make a long story short, I was failed to be sacrificed and innocent people- many innocent people, died for it. Killed by demons, monsters and cult members. And now they're coming for me."

_Monsters and cult members?…okay. Demons? Ridiculous!_ Did he mean the zombies he and Jill were sent to investigate? "But how does that relate to the child murders in this town?"

"How is it not related?" Alex exclaimed in exasperation. Chris jumped. "When parents find their children dead, would they not find me whatever the cost? They want me alive, Agent Redfield. They want to sacrifice me to their God. That's why the children's deaths are related to them one way or another. And now it's just great. They've come to this town looking for me and now somehow they've got my face on the posters in Shelley's."

"Wait," Chris turned around. He did NOT tell Alex that."You **_knew_** you were wanted?"

"Yeah…I've seen this posters before in neighbouring towns, but there was no face on them. I don't know how they did it, but they got my picture this time. The posters appeared in Shelley's about the day before yesterday. I tried to take some down. But when I woke up I noticed there were more. It's most probably covered the whole town now. That's one of the reasons why I insisted I had to come with you. It's so that I won't be in the town when my posters are going around like hotcakes." Alex burrowed his head into his legs and tried to curl up into a ball. "I just wanted to leave there and cool down…think this out and…Oh God. You'll never believe me now. You'll never believe anything I say now."

Chris had to digest all that was conveyed to him. Naturally he would hide something like that from him. Anyone would. Who would like to ever open that closet with the skeleton in it to anyone at all? Despite all the circumstances that threatened to incriminate Alex the moment Chris starts doubting him, his mind was more focused on one thing: "No. I believe you."

"Y-you do?" Alex looked up. "But-…How come?"

Chris shrugged. "…Because…I trust you."

"Trust?...I don't understand." Chris felt that pain in his chest again. That man genuinely looked confused at the word.

"Oh, God, you broken man." Chris put his hand around Alex and hugged him tighter than ever before. Chris was not the one to discuss about feelings and emotions, but Alex not knowing one basic human behaviour to the next just smothered Chris's flaming passion for life one by one. Surely the man must understand such a thing as 'trust'? What kind of world did Alex live in? Of course he wouldn't know…how ridiculous of him to even think that he even knew. Of course it was not his business to know too, but that aura Alex emitted was suffocating. He never met anyone who has his whole being shown so vividly in his eyes. He also had not met someone so profound that it stunned him to the core.

Zombies may destroy a city, Wesker may annihilate the whole world, but it still did not add up to what he felt from this Shepherd guy. Alex may not have lost as much as some people who still emerged stronger, but it did not matter. Something hurts. And it hurt bad.

"What's happening to you?" He held him close, patting his back reassuringly all the time. "Why can't I understand it?"

"I-I…! I'm selfish, that's what I am." He sounded frantic at first, but after a mere second he switched into this other personality that's either come to terms with something or just didn't give a shit anymore. This change of character unsettled Chris a lot.

"What? What do you mean? Goddammit it Shepherd. What's going on here?" He tightened his hug. He wanted to understand so badly. "I want to understand, Shepherd. What are you saying?" It was not after his head had cooled somewhat that he heard him being called for his attention.

"Hey, Agent…Agent Redfield…!" Alex was shaking him somewhat by holding his waist. "Listen!"

"I'm listening, Shepherd." Chris pulled away and held his shoulders firmly. "I'm listening. Please, just tell me. What's going on? You know what's going on here, don't you?"

"No, you're not listening, you're only expecting explanations. You have to listen and accept what I have to say, You hear me? Everything."

Chris's eyebrows cocked involuntarily in extreme confusion. But he had no choice but to accept whatever leads he had to tell him about these murders. "…okay. Go on."

"Then be quiet now. Do you hear anything?"

Hear anything? What a weird notion. Hands still on Alex's shoulders, he pressed the pause button on himself and stood still. He opened his ears. He closed his eyes. The wind outside sounded…heavy. Not fast or strong, but slow and rumbling. It actually reminded him a lot of the winter winds in Russia when he and Jill infiltrated the Umbrella facility there. Anything else? The floorboards kind of creaked with every added weight Chris shifted to either of his feet. Water. He could hear water drip from the sink in the bathroom a bit…and that's about it. "I don't hear anything. Wind blowing, floorboards creaking, us breathing, water dripping…oh, you're shaking."

With fear, not cold, that's for sure. Because Alex, who Chris had uncuffed one of his hands had already wrapped the warm covers around himself. Chris trusted him that much to free him of the restraints, but he really started to doubt this man's sanity when he got his answer from this question. "I didn't pick up anything unusual. Why did you ask me to hear out for nothing?"

"Why?" The man lifted his sights to Chris. "Because I did."

Chris froze.

"The wind is laughing. It's calling my name. They're coming to this house. Something's breathing…down my neck…! Water…the water's rushing, it's gushing in, I can hear it so loudly. I hear it as we speak, I hear it as clear as you are talking to me now. They- they are here, in this town. You wouldn't believe me. You won't believe me…!" He retracted more and more into the blankets and shivered. "What am I thinking," he scoffed angrily at himself. "Of course you won't believe me. You can't hear them. You're a good man. This…all of this, is too crazy for you…You won't understand."

Whatever that had just happened unnerved Chris a great deal. Alex sounded crazy, but he was also trying to be brave, talking as calm as he can. Chris was really contemplating if he had just trusted a nutcase or a normal man with someone after him. "…I'll try."

It was then he heard that soft high-pitched sob that almost didn't register in his ear as the man's whole body shook. "H-hey, why are you cr-" Before Chris could finish, the man's head lifted up - no tears, no panic, just a neutral deadpan face. Chris involuntarily moved back half a step. He then noticed that in contrast to the sudden expressionless face, veins were showing at the edge of his forehead and neck – he was putting on a brave front again. _But…why? What for?_

"You're so funny, Agent Redfield," he chuckled softly, sad, almost. "No one's ever said that to me before. And we've barely met a day…I'm very grateful for that."

Chris kept his silence. Alex took a look at Chris's face and laughed quietly again. He then looked away, his brows knitted, and his face dropped to sorrow. "I know you must be wondering if I'm a lunatic right now." He took a deep breath. "Hmph." One end of his lips pulled up to form a small smile. "I don't blame you."

"Alex…" Whether he was mad or sane, from the sheer plethora of emotions the guy just showed, Chris could at least be sure on one thing: Whatever trouble or distress this man was in, it must be damn deep.

"Agent."

"I won't deny that I did wonder about that. But still, you'll come with me. Everything will be fine as long as you are innocent."

"Agent," Alex repeated, stronger than it should be, meaning to interrupt anything that will ever be said. "I need you to hear what I have to say. Agent Redfield. There's not much time." He grabbed Chris's arm from his shoulder and clenched it as hard as his strength could muster. "_Listen_ to me."

"Alright, alright!" It startled the agreement out of him. He would have wanted to ask 'Why is there not much time?', but Alex looked desperate; as anxious as he was, he decided to shut up and listen.

Alex swallowed. "Agent Redfield, the next time you wake up, don't make a sound. No matter what. You get me? "

The man's eyes were determined. So determined that even Chris had to question himself who was the one giving orders here. "…" His mouth was opened but he could not bring himself think up anything to say. It's like someone suddenly yelling "Pineapple!" in the middle of a serious business negotiation; this was just too random and that caught him completely off guard. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to do. What? Keep quiet? How hard could it be to keep quiet? _Why_ keep quiet?

"…wha- _Huh?_" Chris gaped. "But why?"

"Because-" Alex pulled on Chris's arms to stand up, but choked when he started to speak. His eyes were red. He took in a huge breath of air and let it out slowly. He lifted his gaze up to prevent the weight that had built up to leave his eyes. "…I can't afford to be selfish anymore."

That was the last thing Chris saw and heard before his body spontaneously jerked backwards. All he knew was an excruciating, jolting pain blinded his world white and crashed down mercilessly to black.

_"Thankyou for your service, Agent Redfield."_

Where…did he hear that before? Oh yes…was he dreaming again?

_"Thankyou…Chris."_

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	13. Mortuus Marion

**Disclaimer: All respective characters and relevant ideas and concepts unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.**

**Notes: If you're impatient about weird shit, get ready to abandon me for your quest for quick, sweet, smutty, fluffy romance right about now. I warned you. Now the previous chapter was slightly amended, and now we're here. Again, this is weird mindf*ck (for most folks, anyway.) so turn back while you have the chance!  
><strong>

**Read on either AO3 or DeviantArt for full effect. Seriously FFnet, about time you have that copy-and-paste feature. But too late! I've migrated to AO3!  
><strong>

**P.S.: Seriously if you're reading up to this point, why are you reading this? You must be psychologically superior to endure up to this point!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 13: Mortuus Marion

WooOOooo…he screamed, didn't he? Hmm his throat felt sore, hahaha. That hurt. His abdomen hurt. His throat hurt. _Ooh, that hurt like a bitch._ Maybe he should dream. Yes…maybe he should dream again. Where was reality? It's so confusing because his dream made more sense and the waking world was crazy…Which was the waking world again? Oh, yeah. That lab. He was standing in that big lab with a stupid handgun in his hand. He didn't remember the details of every corner so he was in this bright light of a room (_lazy memory, hahaha._) and the only tangible thing in there was this glass cylinder of an aquarium. The thing that killed his captain was inside, hahahaha. He rested his hands and leaned in against the cold glass. He could see his breath forming a white fog on the glass, but his mouth felt drier and stickier than it should. That only indicated one thing: He was crying. It should be that, since he felt more guilty than ever. Why, he wondered? He'd been asking himself that word so many times today. Too much. He couldn't take it. It made him so tired. Couldn't he just forget and move on? His breaths turned shaky. His nose started to sour up. Maybe he was crying after all. But yet he was chuckling, laughing. He couldn't tell if he was happy, angry, sad, or otherwise, but his heart was damn lighter, that's for sure. It felt good. Like nothing was against him in this world. He hugged the big glass cylinder and sighed contentedly. That was kind of funny, considering the creature inside was supposed to be big, intimidating and dangerous. He was waiting for the big clawed hand to crash out of the glass case and impale him, just like it did his captain. Gut him inside out. Ohh that will feel so good…there will be nothing to worry anymore. He will feel so free!

_Nothing is hidden, everything is true._

_Dum-de-dum-dum._ His mind kept repeating the sentence and the non-melodic tune. It felt so good. So safe. So right.

But then he had to remember the moment he hugged this glass container thingie…

_There's nothing inside._

He stepped back for a moment and looked into the glass chamber. That's funny. There's no one in there. He kind of knew that, and kind of _forgot_ that two seconds later hugged that blasted thing anyway. What was he expecting?

What was he hoping for?

Ahh yes…I forgot. Shepherd…Shepherd was in here. In this tank. But the B.O.W. that Wesker made was in it too. Ohhh what couldn't he figure out? All this balled up bruising sensation pulling down on him, wrenching his breath out and down to the floor. Guilt.

Guilt.

Guilt.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

**Drip drip drop drop drip drip drop drop drop drippity dropdropdropdropdripidropdro pdrop**

Chris lifted his gaze steadily to the glass prison. Why did he call it prison? Doesn't matter.

**Crick**

Networks of red desperately dribbled down from the metal top, overflowing from the top of the glass tank down to the floor. Drops were squirting out from the cracks. Strange. There was nothing but clear water (or whatever it was that was a clear liquid) inside that glass cylinder of a tank, yet red was the colour that came out of the tank…? Whatever it was, it spread outwards more and more, covering the glass case and the floor around it with red. When Chris's soles got soaked, he shifted his feet at the pooling liquid – He knew what this felt like. He reached out his hand to the liquid flowing down the glass, felt the texture between his fingers – He knew what this felt like. He moved his face closer to the glass and sniffed it – He knew what this felt like. He knew what this was.

He just simply could not understand why all he could see was clear water behind the glass of this large container before deep-red blood leaking from the top blocked off the calming colour in front of him.

_…_

_I hate it._

**Crack**

Chris looked up. This thing was overflowing, and the expanding circle of blood was widening. This glass cylinder thing might explode from all that pressure alright, and Chris knew he had to get out of there. Yes, he needed to get away, but the blood only marked the line of land and air, not coming to a stop to reveal the existence of a wall. No wall – no door. He was in a big nowhere of bright white and this freaking bleeding machine in front of him. Well he _could_ walk far enough from that bloody thing (he laughed sullenly in his mind at the pun); if it explodes he would not have to worry about getting too hurt much, or getting hurt at all. But if he were to go too far, he might lose sight of this thing he came to hate, and lose all sense of direction in this bright space.

_I'm screwed, hahahahaha._ He laughed cynically. He did not panic as he thought he should, but he _was_ nervous. How far should he run? How big will the explosion be? He just stood there, wondering what to do, running his palm over the glass, and jumped backwards with a start. He fell to the ground, pants and the back of his shirt soaked full of blood, but he didn't care.

_But that was…! What was that?! There's something in there!_

Was he mistaken? Was he just seeing things? Chris got up clumsily, approached the glass container again, reached out his shaky hand to the glass covered by an increasing flow of red, and _wiped_.

The word 'horror' could not even begin to signify what Chris felt when the space where he wiped revealed a face partially just above the nose, with a pair of disgusting pee-coloured, almost white-pupiled eyes darting around and settled, on _him_. More blood immediately blocked the vision he had of this…this _being_ in this glass cell. 'Why wasn't this person there in the first place?' Chris thought after a barrage of verbal and mental swearing, as more and more gallons of life fluid still flowed down and parted at his shoes and flowed away to cover more ground.

It's a logical question, wasn't it? Nothing was there before the glass broke, nothing was there after the glass broke, and now after a wizard-like trick of covering the glass container with blood rather than a cloth, something appeared…? What? How did this even make any sense?!

_This **is** a dream right? This MUST be a dream! This can't be…!_

Fired up with denial, Chris shot a look at this spot of the glass cell where he first saw those eyes, ready to face it again, and defiantly _wiped_. A different pair of eyes, closed this time, met his.

"Jill?!"

_But this can't be!_ He wiped again, and-

"Jill! Jill why are you in ther- SHEPHERD?!" Chris screamed, stunned. He was definitely was not proud of what he was feeling, but he silently admitted that if he had lost one more ounce of control, he would have peed his pants.

_This cannot be. This cannot be!_

He wiped. He wiped, and he wiped.

Alex Shepherd. Alex Shepherd.

Still Alex Shepherd.

Chris fell on his ass, his handgun clattered on the floor with a splash. He panted. He panted until he wheezed. He wheezed until there were tears forming in his eyes. This was crazy. But it all felt so real. Like he belonged here. Like everything was revealed here. Like there's nothing to hide. But then the dread of foreboding grew because of everything here defying logic. Someone just throw him to some monsters please, because that would make much more sense than what's happening now. But no. Now he's freaking standing in the middle of a blasted nowhere with no enemies whatsoever and he's on the verge of a breakdown.

Shaking. Confused. Panicked. Conflicted. Lost.

_"Shoot."_

"Huh?" Chris mouthed involuntarily, getting up while looking up and around, desperate for guidance, but felt fear grip his heart when it came.

_Who said that?_

Eyes landed on the shining metallic object he dropped on the surface of red. "Sh-shoot…"

_How does that make sense? No, maybe I should try it. Nothing here makes sense anyway._

"Shoot…" Chris swiftly picked up the handgun and slowly got to his feet. He walked towards this glass-metal contraption, which glass was crinkling again from the pressure. "Shoot…"

How should he do it? How far? How close? Will that thing explode from the pressure? How far, how big will the explosion go? But before that, he had to make sure…who was that in the tank? He braced himself, and wiped, but this time a bigger area to rid himself of any ambiguity. Male torso, arms, neck, chin, face.

Alex Shepherd.

He kept wiping the red substance he knew as blood away from the glass where he could see the face, again, again, and again, so that he could look at the face long enough to tell that he wasn't seeing things. Alex Shepherd. But why was he even in this tank? The man's eyes were closed, sleeping, maybe. Or was he hurt and hibernating while healing? But there was no breathing tube on his mouth or anything. Wait. Was he dead? Was this some kind of preserving method?

_"Shoot."_

Suddenly every possible benefit he thought he would get from opening fire at this tank flew right out of the window. Not that there was any window here, that is. Damn. He still needed a way out of here. There was no solution just talking to himself in his head. Everything that suggested this was a good idea instantly just became stupid. Why shoot a bleeding tank with someone resting inside it? Yeah, a good idea. Totally makes sense, doesn't it?

_"Shoot."_

"Okay now this is getting ridiculous, who's saying that? Show yourself!" He looked around but saw no one. If there was anyone at all, there's only this dummy in this glass cell that contained water and now leaking blood. What part of this makes sense?

* * *

><p><strong>Wipe. Clack. Wipe. Wipe. Clack. Clatter. Wipe.<strong> Chris was beyond frustrated now. He wiped at the tank again and again, almost clawing at the glass with both of his hands, handgun and all.

"Damn it! Why are you in there, Shepherd? Where's Jill, and are you even alive in there? " He pounded at the glass while swatting away the red substance that blocked his view from the man inside. Sure, the glass was cracking before, but at its own accord due to the pressure. His pounding meant nothing to the hard material, fortunately. Ah, reason is gone when anger arises.

_"Shoot."_

Chris was getting beyond frustrated now. He was smashing his fists into the glass at this point, _panicking_. Nothing was coming at him. Nothing came popping up. There was no sense of time here, so time was not tight on him. The voice that told him that one word was the cause of all this fear.

"Shepherd," he was getting more concerned for Alex's welfare than actually being angry at him in his confusion. "Shepherd. I need you to wake up." Desperate pangs of disappointment hit his chest every time he rubbed off the red liquid and find a pair of unopening eyes behind it. "Come on, Alex. Come on!"

_"Shoot."_

"Damn it!" he pounded against the glass with his gun hand and wiped furiously with the other, yelling at the man inside the tank to open his eyes and look at him. The blood leakage from the cracked top was beginning to look like a punch fountain now; running drops have long since turned into frivolous trickles that posed more nuisance than anything he could ever imagine possible at the moment. "Damn it! ALEX!"

Eyes shot open. _"SHOOT!" _

"Wh thu- Godda-!- FU-!"

** _BANG  
>CRASH<em> **

"AUGH! AH! No…! NO!" All he could think of to get rid of all this mess was to flail about and he couldn't move his hands. He wanted to, but his muscles were not responding. Wait. He was in a dream, wasn't he? Did he just come out of a lucid dream again? Or was he still in it? He heard from his colleagues about sleep paralysis where people dreamed vividly and couldn't move the entire time. He struggled. God it's actually frightening to experience that. God if there was nothing else he could rely on, there was always himself and his well-trained body that endured so many hardships and tribulations. Now he couldn't. He just couldn't. "Grh- No. NO!"

"Calm down." Voice as dull and uninterested as untouched murky water resounded…right at his right ear.

"Wh-." There's someone there. Someone liquid, if not solid. Either way, it's way better than nothing. At least it's not air, where the voice sounded like it came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He was so thrilled to hear a voice that he could discern the direction it was coming from that if his hands could move, he swore he would grab that voice because it was so tangible.

_Drip_

A drop of water hit the bottom of the sink, reminding him of all the crazy sounds and sensations he heard in his dystopian nightmare. The crazed world he was in drove him nuts. Good thing it was a dream.

Right?

"So, It's Chris Redfield. I see you finally shot him."

Right. Thank Go-

"What the fuck." The realization hit. Sensations of tingling fear and an oddly, burning voice box washed over his gullet, which he swallowed down. That actually came out just as monotonous as this other guy's voice, if not duller. This scared even himself. "How the hell do you even know that?"

"You were like a storyteller of your own dreamworld, Chris. Only in screams." He sounded like he cared…but, man! Can someone talk in a duller tone than that on something so outlandish?

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain how you know about this like you're seeing through my eyes!"

_Drip_

"Chris, you're not talking sense." Jill's voice. God, if he was thankful for a concrete voice just now, he doubled the thanks for some emotion. Thank whatever powers that may be!

"Jill, Jill. Where am I? What's going on?" Everything was so confusing up to this point that he did not notice the place he was in: A weird contrast to his dream. Everything was a blur, and dark. He could see shadows. The room was dark enough to cover every face in the room, but just enough in the dimness to recognize heads and body silhouettes. The wooden doors of the windows had been closed and apparently locked, if not someone should have opened those doors up by now. What's with the no-lights? He traced where Jill's voice was coming from and saw her figure at the end of the room, sitting. Ah, and there's another man here, wasn't there? He turned to his right and gave a little yell at another dark figure beside him even though he expected the embodiment of that voice to be there.

"Why this dark room? What's going on?"

"Chris, it's okay." Jill came over and held his hand. Oh God it was so warm. Thank the heavens. He was going to be alright. His partner was here. Even if this was an illusion at least it helped calm the fright somewhat.

"Jill, just tell me. Where am I?" Chris swallowed, asking with more composure.

"You're back. In Shelley's Inn." Jill pressed Chris's hand reassuringly, but Chris was anything but reassured.

"Wait. This is not right. All I remember is…wait. Where's Shepherd?" Chris started when he remembered and tried to get up, but immediately plopped back down when the restraints on his wrists reminded him of their existence.

"Whoa, whoa, there. Calm down, Tiger." Jill soothed. "Just one question at a time."

Chris could not see her face, but that was when their amazing tacit knowledge of each other as partners came into play; Chris shut up despite his extreme distress and Jill talked like she knew it was her turn all along, and answered accordingly. "We're in Shelley's Inn," she repeated. "And you're here in the doctor's room in the inn."

"Doctor?" Chris cocked an eyebrow. "Wait. Oh, Shepherd's psychiatrist? Psychologist? Whatever. Sorry, doc. No offense."

"Yes." Jill replied. "And the reason you're here is because you've been mumbling nonsense in your sleep all the way here. Sleep or not, I don't know."

"…I have?" He could see Jill's head nod. "I…I don't remember anything."

"And you're here for some kind of mental treatment. Some kind of hypnosis thing since you're not…sober. I don't trust things like these so I stayed here. The straps on your hands is there so you that won't hurt someone if you turned violent…which was what you did just a minute ago. I might have to trust what the doctor says from now on. I always thought doctors like these are quack." The doctor beside him shifted in his seat. "Um, sorry, sir."

"It doesn't matter." The doctor replied almost immediately, almost like he had anticipated what she would say all along.

_Drip_

"So I'm here because you think I've lost it," Chris butted in. "and you're here because you don't trust him. Okay I get it. And Shepherd's not here because…?" He heard Jill sigh. He knew there was disappointing news coming.

"I was afraid you would come to that…" He knew Jill was hesitating.

_Drip_

"Cut to it, Jill. You know me."

"We found you in a closet of a house. Where we've traced your PDA tracker signal."

"Closet?" Not remembering that ever happening, that didn't sound very nice either. "And Alex?"

_Drip_

"Nowhere to be found."

He gritted his teeth. "…Damn it! Where's the Deputy?"

He heard Jill scratching her scalp. "Umm, actually…He's here. We were out of communication with the walkies and couldn't find him in town a while ago because…"

Chris let out a frustrated sigh. "Just tell me."

_Drip_

"He said his radio and car was out of commission for a while, that's why he didn't make contact. He drove back here safely some time after." Jill fiddled with her fingers, clearly ashamed of her assumptions on Wheeler.

"Shit," Chris slumped at the chair. It felt like a dentist's chair. With straps on them being the only difference. Or do dentist chairs always have wrist straps on them? "You know what? It doesn't matter. Jill, Doc. Can I get out of these now? I'm awake, aren't I?"

Drip

"Of course." The doc said matter-of-factly. Jill took that as him giving her the permission and she proceeded to unfasten the leather belts on his wrists.

"So what happens now?" Chris sat up, rubbing his wrists. "We can't stop our investigation; another outbreak far away from the main one in Florida is the last thing we need. But…"

_Drip_

"But?" Jill asked.

"I know the whole thing's botched, but we can't just leave Alex back there either. There's something fishy about this…too fishy. It'll be history all over again. I- We must go and find him, now, and-"

"It's okay, Chris." Jill held his shoulder, comforting. "You-"

_Drip_

"It's not okay! I can't just leave someone alone back there! It feels like something will happen if we leave it alone. If I don't find the guy, at least I need to see a body!"

"You need rest, Chris." The doctor's stoic way of speaking put a solid block right in the middle of whatever he was trying to talk about, or think about. "What has happened has put a strain on your mind."

_Drip_

"The doctor's right, Chris." Jill added. "Like it or not, you've been out of it for a whole day…"

"A whole day?!" Chris jumped up. "B-but it felt like only a-a"

_Drip_

"A moment. Yes." The doctor chipped in casually.

_Drip_

Chris tsk-ed lightly in annoyance, turned to Jill and swallowed. "How many hours was I out of commission?"

"Out cold for a whole day since Blake's, partner. You know what? I'll help you get to your room, you get your sleep, and I'll fill you in after that, how's that sound?" Jill patted his shoulder, suggesting pleasantly, albeit carefully.

_Drip_

Something in him snapped. "H-what? How's that sound? Nuts! Ludacris!" Chris held onto his handrests firmly and sat up sharply. "I don't know about you, but, well, no! Why do you all sound like Alex's not being here's not a problem anymore? Someone could have taken him! No- I mean we need to get him back here! The kids, the young people dying…"

"See? I told you, Ms Valentine. This is straining on the mind. Please convince him to rest or I'll have to do it myself."

_Drip_

"Why are you talking like that? You saw what I was dreaming! **You're** the shady guy around here, literally too!"

"Chris, you'll have to calm down. I'll explain it to you later. You're in no condition to-"

_Drip_

"In no condition? I've practically slept the whole day! What do you mean by no condition-" Chris's outburst was rudely stopped when he heard a big crash and felt a shot of bruising pain.

His knees had slammed into the floor knees-first the first chance he got to stand up.

"Wha…?"

"There's still a lot you don't understand, Chris Redfield. The situation, the mind…Alex Shepherd…Everything."

_Drip drip drip drip_

"You…!" Chris's anger flared. The man was so calm that it brought the mother of all fury out of him. Especially when that doctor mentioned Shepherd's name, he got up with his right fist clenched before stumbling down again. Of course…who could have known Shepherd more than this doctor did? He even saw Chris's dream, for God's sake! How does anyone DO that? Was it even possible at all? But if he could know the impossible in such a short time, he sure as hell would have known his other patient more than enough to put the patient's own family to shame. And Chris only met this patient for less than a day and the patient's not a fortunate man.

So how could he sound so cold?

How _dare_ he?

"Calm yourself, Chris Redfield." He looked up to a dark silhouette of a pair of crossed legs. "You can be sure I am not your enemy. I am merely here to guide and help through what must come to pass. And to observe what must be done."

_Drip drip drip drip trickle drip drip drip_

A nerve snapped in solemn enlightenment as Jill helped him up. A growl escaped his lips. "You're supposed to observe what's going on and help on what needs to be done." Chris said it slowly to let everything sink in, including letting it sink into himself. It felt good.

_Drippity drip_

"Not bad, you're better than I thought. Maybe Deputy Wheeler has really hit a lucky star this time." In his monotone there's actually rise in pitch that indicated surprise, which really almost set Chris up to punch the guy. Chris stepped forward shakily but was held back by Jill. "I told you, Chris Redfield. I am not your enemy. I may be your ally, depending on how you want to perceive me to be."

_Drip_

Jill pulled at Chris's arm towards the door and Chris finally complied. He looked back at the dark figure in the room while he opened the door: "Then just know that I don't like you," he glared, "And fix your damned sink!" and slammed the door shut. The hallway was a dark as the room, the light coming only from lightings from downstairs. Good, he didn't want to see the bastard's face anyway.

Jill just helped him to the elevator silently and dropped him on his room's bed when they have arrived on their floor. It was then that Chris spoke his first words to Jill after the ordeal: "Thanks."

"I know…" Jill stood at the window and looked out wearily. They had curtains instead of wooden doors. "Things are more complicated than we thought…Argh, why are we even here?" Jill turned away sharply with a loud frustrated sigh and sat on one of the armchairs, hand on face. "I-I know I'm bad for saying this, but can't we just go back?"

Chris looked down at his pants for no reason; he understood what Jill meant. Things were driving them crazy here, and there's legitimate zombie business to take care of down in Florida. No further words needed to be exchanged about that. "Alex's still in Blake's Lake," was all he could say. "I know you will say for all we know he's most probably dead, but I know he's alive. I just know it."

"Or refuse to acknowledge it until you've seen the body," Jill added. Chris looked up. "No, I agree with you. The posters want him alive. Usually lists want criminals _dead_ or alive, not alive and alive only. He might still be alive…Oh Chris…What _happened_ back there?"

A smile tugged on his lips. "You know, Jill, I don't know why I feel better talking to you about stuff I don't want to think about than having someone taking it out of me without my effort."

Jill smiled back tiredly and gave a laugh. "So you lost him, but how?"

"I don't really remember, but…" Chris scratched his chin, trying to remember that moment before he passed out. There was a lot of pain… "…something hit me before I became unconscious. It hurt so bad- wait, hey!" Chris's eyes lit up and he babbled some incoherent words in excitement before revealing his finding, wide-eyed: "He tased me! That bastard tased me!" He scrambled to lift up his shirt and found it – a small burn-bruise at his upper abdomen. Then his eyes shifted around, trying to remember something, and his sights stopped at his arm for some reason. "He…did something. I can't exactly remember what."

Jill stood up. "That's enough for today, Chris." She handed him a glass of water and wiped some sweat off his forehead. "I'm afraid you'll wear yourself out. After what just happened on the sixth floor, I'm starting to believe all this psyche mumbo-jumbo."

Chris smiled at up Jill, but let out a dejected chuckle. "It's kind of ironic that I was in your role to Shepherd just moments ago. And now here I am, the poor little patient. Maybe _now_ I can understand him."

"Whatever it was you've been through, if we find out something happened later, at least you know you did all you could," Jill smiled. "And there'll be no excuse that can pin you down, that you've not done enough. So just sleep for now, okay? You're the only one I know who can save him, but you can barely walk, after all." Chris needed that compassionate comfort. Better still, what she said was actually right.

"Alright," Chris gave up. There's no way he could say no to rest now. All the reasons in the world had been slammed into his face for the accepting. He's just glad that he was not going to sleep in a helicopter; he was thankful that Jill also never mentioned anything about going back to Florida A.S.A.P. and therefore supported his unmentioned decision to stay. It was a tough choice – a stupid choice, even. But somehow he feels he's not going to regret this. It was…fresh, to say the least. All the mystery, foreboding and dread; maybe it was like another Arklay Mansion incident all over again. God, had he desired this? But Chris cut that thought off in horror before he could continue. _Sleep, just sleep_. he thought, as he locked his door and flipped off the light switch after seeing Jill off on his wobbly feet.

His thoughts were just so many today. He felt so tired. He closed his eyes that were so eager to sleep but it felt like weights sat on his eyelids when he closed them. He was so ready to just settle down to rest but his head swirled in a mild vertigo whenever he stilled himself. He tried to sleep, but there's something nagging in him that he's forgetting something.

Chris twisted and turned on his bed, uneasiness crawling all over him. He was sweating, but he let that air-conditioner run because it was so comfortable. The machine was the older type of air conditioners where it had this low rumble while it sounded like drops of water were prancing and jumping around in the metalwork. It reminded him of his childhood and teenage years where he used to sleep and work around these old air conditioners before the newer electronic ones showed up. Ahh, the air from these older types of air conditioners had this other-worldly quality to it. The smell's right, the sound it makes was right, the coolness and moisture was just right. Sometimes the good old times are just the best.

Sure, he was sweating a lot, but nah, he wouldn't get any flu from all this, right? He's not physically weak, but something else was so worn out in him that it made him tired. Whenever he was at the edge of falling asleep, the clear face of Alex Shepherd popped up right in front of him out from the dark, like he was right at his face, doing nothing but giving this piercing stare from an expressionless face that for whatever reason, bored holes into his rapidly-beating heart behind Chris's eyes. He then would sit up with a start, look at the window and see that moonlight, just to drift back to sleep and wake up again to see that moonlight on his windowsill, illuminating that single blue rose in its small white vase with a sombre silver. He tried to distract himself by thinking about Florida, and even attempted to accept the fact that "Hey, Alex is not here anymore. Just like that." to make himself feel better, or let that weight go, but it was not working. He did not feel guilty whatsoever on losing Alex out there. Alex tased him! God, he tased him! It was a revelation to actually remember that, despite not seeing the look on Alex's face. But the point was that he really did all he could. To serve justice, to keep him safe…to _understand_. 'Trust' suddenly seemed so foreign, so out of reach. So complicated. For years, he knew Jill had absolutely no doubts in her trust for him, but after this ordeal...did he really know what it is? Thoughts kept going and going and going and it rammed right into his head. It was a silent hell.

He got up and cursed. He knew what needed- no, what he had to do. He hated it, and it surprised him that this idea got into his head, but he picked up the phone in his room (quite a nice technology in addition to the elevator compared to the town devoid of it), followed the instructions, and dialled.

"…Hello?"

* * *

><p>"No, you don't sound crazy. In fact, of course I will be helping. That is what I'm here for."<p>

"And I thought with what you just said you'll rather just watch me have nightmares than helping me on them."

"Very funny, Chris. You know this is no laughing matter."

"And you know this isn't exactly a calming matter. I don't know if I should admire you or dislike you for being so cold."

"Whatever it will be, Chris, come to my room when you wake up. I will help you remember what you have forgotten."

"Alright…Thanks."

"Very much appreciated. Goodnight."

Very slowly, he lowered the receiver and heard it click on its rest. He rested his head carefully on the pillow. He didn't want to think that he actually made a deal with this guy that he disliked so much. He just wanted to focus on the prospect that he was very sure he had made the right choice. He closed his eyes. They were strained as before, but not as…heavy.

This time when he closed his eyes, he was sitting on the floor with his head tucked in the arms and lap of Alex, seated higher. The man was holding his head close, crying. Chris couldn't move to see his face, but he heard that high-pitched whine when you are weeping silently by yourself and that short pulling back of breath in between, and it started all over again. He was just there, just…crying. He thought he felt warm tears and humid breath on the side of his face. It felt…good. Isn't it ironic, that it's usually the one who's wrapped in the embrace supposed to be the one crying? Isn't he supposed to be the one feeling guilty for losing the younger man out there? He must be in deep shit, so afraid, so lost, Chris bet.

It's calming though, so calming. So reassuring. So comforting.

Weird, really….

So, so weird…

Chris held on to that odd yet not-uneasy feeling as he finally was able to drift off to sleep.

_Drip_

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	14. Spiderweb Mystery

**Disclaimer: All respective characters and relevant ideas and concepts unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.**

**Notes: I apologize if you don't understand what I wrote in the previous chapter, as they are all largely symbolic and foretelling dreams, and a vent of my sick, depraved, possibly depressed mind. **

**And whatever happens, please know and remember that wherever you are, whoever you are, I love you.**

* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 14: Spiderweb Mystery

"I can't…"

"I need…"

A voice, shaky and floaty, wisped through the air. It was so crisp and clear in the silent air. Silence. It's so different. It resonates such…loneliness in him that he felt like he had taken instances of peacefulness for granted, so much so that it's a sin.

_Hmm, who is that?_

"…to wake up."

Weird.

"Wake up, man. You've got to wake up!"

Whoa, whoa, whoa…

"Wake up, please!"

"WAKE UP NOW!"

Chris's torso bolted off the bed.

"WHOA, Chris!"

Click.

"Oh God- CHRIS! Put that gun down, now!"

…

…

"…Huh…, Jill?"

"You've got that right…Now put down that gun. You've been having nightmares."

"Nightmares? I'm not dreaming."

"You- Just put that gun down, okay? You were yelling in your sleep. I had to come here to wake you up. Is that clear enough for you?"

Chris heard an incessant noise, only to let his ears clear to find himself panting. He looked at himself. Besides his body looking like it's been stuck in the sauna for thirteen hours he also noticed the stiffness that he had on his limbs that contrasted that correlation that his recently-started brain came up with.

Slowly, he lowered his whole arm. He did not bend his elbow. He just lowered the whole limb to the sheets, gun barrel away from its intended target. _Breathe in…Breathe out. Breathe in…Breathe out. Phew… Phew…_

Silence filled the room. Chris did not lift his head. He **_dared_** not lift his head. What did he just do? What the _heck_ did he almost do to Jill?!

"Chris. Look at me. You're scaring me."

"I…Jill, I…" Chris stuttered. "I'm sorry! I…"

"Shh. It's alright. I've got news about Alex and I just thought you might want to hear it now that you're awake."

Ahh, the reason he was ending and starting days with a figurative shit.

"Ugh, yeah." Chris rubbed his eyes. "_Please_. I'd like to hear it."

Unbeknownst to him, Jill was already at his right side, his gun already in her hand. He gave a little "Whoa," when he saw her after the next blink of his eyes, but calmed himself down and plopped himself back on the bed, not bothering to hide the big "Oof!" when he landed back onto the sheets. He breathed in all the air he could muster, and let it out as slowly as he could.

"Okay…Go on."

Jill nodded, and got right into business: "Chris." Jill took his hand in both of hers, which made Chris thought, _well that's kind of odd_.

"The posters that demand Alex's surrender all vanished without a trace. I can't find them on the billboards, on the walls, or even in the bins. They're gone. It's like...it's like…"

"It's like a goddamned dream," Chris continued. "A nightmare, to be exact." A piece of paper looked worse for wear crinkled from Jill's hands onto his palms.

"But…But, this…" Chris looked up at Jill. "This is his wanted poster?" She nodded. He warily looked down at the black-and-white wanted shot. It did not look like a mugshot at all. The image showed Alex sitting sideways beside a lake, with his head turned sideways looking into the camera; he looked surprised, like he only realized that he was being photographed at moment the shutter clicked when he was admiring the lake. Chris unwittingly smiled. He wondered who took the surprise picture. Then he sighed. How did this fall to enemy hands?

Who _was_ their enemy?

He looked into the eyes of that wanted man with his heart aching. If only things looked this innocent like a surprise camera-shot.

"But if this poster is on my hands now," Chris hardened himself up. "This means this is not a dream. It's all real. We can be sure of another thing – They've definitely got what they came for. Hopefully they'll leave the people alone…Hopefully." With that concluded, Chris grunted, sat up and stretched. "…So, I guess the back-up didn't find him?"

Jill had an amused tug at the end of her lips. "You really trust me too much, Chris."

"Hey, I don't. You're just that competent." Chris chuckled. "I don't need to tell you what to do. You'll deploy backup here and there before I even start to think! I'm the battlefield guy, not really the strategist like you."

"Why, thankyou!" Jill beamed. "Like the usual, I got people deployed to find Alex when the evac came to you. But there's only the evac crew doing the search though, no other teams were available."

"We're that short on manpower?" That was gut-wrenchingly worrying. Alex could feel the bridge between his eyebrows tense. His heart actually started to pound. Why does this feel so ominous? "I thought...but I thought..."

That there was going to be enough troops to spare?

Oh right.

Nothing ever comes easy.

"Chris, are you okay?"

"Y-yeah…" Chris stammered. "Jill. Are we really that short on men?"

Jill's gaze went down as she wrapped her arms around herself, letting out a little sigh. "…I think the Florida outbreak is worse than we thought…" Chris nodded. "To be honest? From the fact that they couldn't send more backup than the evac team itself worries me. I do think so. But why aren't they telling us anything…?"

"Do we have to go back?" Chris asked himself aloud, eyes fixed on the desk and the single rose in its small porcelain vase on the windowsill just in front of it. Both of the senior agents stayed at their places, edged into deep contemplation, fully knowing what the simple answer was, yet finding themselves trying to find reasons to convince themselves that it was not that straightforward as it seems.

"There's something very bad happening here. I know it. I just know it. It's pulling at me. All these happenings couldn't be just mad people doing mad stuff. It's too…sequential. Things are happening one after the other, they seem to be related in some sort of way…Agh I just can't figure it out!" Chris balled his fists. One glance at Jill and he knew she agreed with him. "I'll buy it that the evac crew didn't find him." Jill nodded. Chris had already prepared himself to accept that.

Jill shook her head in disappointment. "How could they? I mean, they're only a few men in a hostile town. All they could do was scour around for a while. The weather here's not making air-travel any easier too."

It was all true, but he hated that feeling, that feeling that he had lost. Mission failure. Now he had to decide whether to repair this mission or to go back to help save a state from destruction. In fact, scratch that, it was an exaggeration: The fixing of this failure was just an optional obligation while the one back in Florida was a genuine problem happening…a crisis, even.

"I'll go."

A voice cut through the room, and Chris was surprised it wasn't his. "Huh?"

"I'll go," Jill repeated. "You stay. I get it that you're not going to leave this alone."

Chris lifted his gaze to look Jill in her eyes. There were no remorse, no apologies. Just an understanding.

He sighed, and got up from the bed.

"Going somewhere?" Jill asked.

"Yeah, I've got this appointment with a certain doctor that I'm not really fond of, if you catch my drift." He replied, yawning loudly and pulling his shoulder blade muscles. "Why do you ask? Oh yeah, anything else you need to tell me?"

"So what're you going there for?" Jill asked.

"To retrieve memories from my subconscious…apparently." Chris made a face when he saw Jill's eyes sparkle. "That's just what he called it. It's like trying to get me to remember things that are in my head but I'm not able to recall it." Chris scratched his neck. "It's nothing fascinating."

Jill held his arm. "But it is," She looked more drawn into it than ever, solemnity all gone. "I've never heard of that before. Can it really be done?"

Chris paused for a moment. He scratched his head with a bit of frustration. The whole thing didn't seem so outlandish until someone else asked him that question, making him feel stupid to even believe that it might work in the first place. "I don't know. I got into a phonecall with him yesterday. Apparently it's possible…according to him."

"Hm, why don't you go to your doctor's appointment before I tell you?" Jill said, with a little ticklish smile on her face. Chris just got himself a glass of water from the bathroom sink and drank it, ignoring it. She must be glad that he was willing to work with the doctor. The fact that Jill was in any proximity of interest on what the doctor was doing kind of ticked him off.

"Is that the information you wanted to tell me later? You sure? Okay…if you say so." Jill knows the right thing to do on the right time. He'll trust her on that.

"Well let's see if you're able to remember some details that I've kept from you then!" Jill smiled with delight.

Chris shrugged his shoulder with a cheery "whatever" look on his face. "Right, right. I'm going to Mr. David Copperfield now. Maybe that'll confirm to both of us that he's not a looney. What time is it?" He took a glance at the window and scoffed. "Forget it."

It didn't matter time of the day it was, the sky was grey as hell.

Suddenly going to see the doctor was a less gloomy prospect.

Chris opened the door to leave. "Jill…thanks." _For covering Florida for me. For letting me stay. _

He knew Jill was looking out the window when she said: "I'll leave tonight."

* * *

><p>"I didn't think you would come, Mr. Redfield."<p>

"And yet here I am." Chris's mouth tasted sour. "…this remember-something-we-don't-even-remember thing…It doesn't even make sense. You're not lying about this, right?"

"Yet you agreed to this, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did, but…"

"Then I'll show you." _Click_. "Come here, Chris Redfield."

_H-huh? _His knees suddenly felt weak. Wait. Not weak. He felt inclined to make his feet walk towards something. Ahh, the chair seems comfortable, doesn't it? Sit down then. You're still sleepy. You've not rested like you thought you did. Now do tell. Every single detail you can remember about the incident. You will feel much lighter.

This is what you came here for, isn't it?

Are you ready? Let us begin.

Chris Redfield.

But do take in mind, though. Although you may hope it could be different, nothing of the outcome will change from you doing this.

**_None at all._**

**_It does not matter._**

**_l…_**

**_I…...?_**

**_Who am I…? Somehow it occurred to…me, that it does... No. It does not matter._**

**_I am only here to observe. I am not supposed to…_**

**_…care._**

* * *

><p>"…"<p>

"Chris Redfield, you are going to tell me your sorrows and worries, your grief and your guilt. Now tell me what happened in the house where you were found, before you went unconscious."

"Whu-what did you say, doc?"

A long, flat sigh echoed in the room. "You are the toughest one I've had yet. A real knucklehead."

The doctor repeated his question. Chris did not know how he got into the comfortable chair in the first place. His eyes were unfocused and kind of dreamy, sight floating around the room, which was dark anyway. His eyes were closed. He's aware of that. But he could see. His mind fleeted to somewhere dark. He was in a dark place just like this one too. He remembers.

_Dark._

_It's so dark…_

_Hum…_

_It's so dark._

"Now tell me, Chris Redfield. Where are you now?"

* * *

><p>It's so dark.<p>

_Dark. So dark…_

_Hum…_

_Dark._

Pressure was everywhere. It was enveloping everywhere. The downside, though, was that there was nothing tangible to hold on to. It felt like something could be held, but it slipped past between the fingers every time they clenched towards the palms.

*Hack* *Cough*

"Urgh…*Cough* Where…" A few more coughs and one casual "ahem" interrupted his respiratory needs.

Blurring sight of a cold stone floor zoomed out as he pushed his palms on that surface to lift himself up. The surface's colour became darker…Oh, it became wet, spreading from his hands. Wait, what? Eyes. Rubbed eyes. Still not clearing. Drip. Flutter. Urgh. Cold. Now the mind lit up to find that he was as wet as a marinated fish! But a very coarse blanket was draped over his body as he was out cold. It plopped down to the floor when he tried to sit upright. It was a crude way of keeping him from freezing, but he was actually quite relieved to know that no one took off his clothes.

"Ahh. How nice of you to join us." The voice sounded pleased. Almost too pleased.

The worst thing of all, was that he knew that voice.

"B-But…!"

He despaired.

"NO!"

* * *

><p>"Footsteps. Footsteps. A lot of footsteps."<p>

"Footsteps?"

"People coming in."

"M-hmm. And where are you?"

"Stuffed in the wardrobe."

"How did you get there?"

"I underestimated him."

"Underestimated who?"

"Alex Shepherd."

"Why do you say that?"

"His wrists were slit."

"By whom?"

"…?"

"Excuse me…I… I mean, who did it?"

"He did. He tried to kill himself. I stopped that."

"Hmm…And how was that underestimating him?"

"He took off big chunks off his wrists with just a small razor. He's lost so much blood. But he's still able to stuff a heavier me into a wardrobe…I've underestimated him."

"And this happened to you when he's hurt like that?"

"…..I realized yesterday that he tased me…then he stuffed me into the closet. And then it's the footsteps. I think someone... some people came in...It's a blur."

"Good. It's not going to be after this. I need to you to slip into a yawn, then let go of your muscles, and then your eyes. Let them go."

"…"

"How do you feel?"

"Light. The eyes were heavy. Now they're light."

"Because you've just let them out. It's good. Now, you're in the closet. Rewind. You got electrocuted. Rewind. Rewind. Think about that flash of pain. Clear your eyes. Open your ears. He tased you. Remember the pain. Did he do anything? Did he say anything?"

"Yes."

"What did he do? What did he say?"

"Yes."

"Take your time."

"I jerked back. Fell on the floor…"

"And?"

"He came over. Heh. He fell over too. Tripped and landeed on me. Hahaha…Serves him right…bastard."

"Continue."

"…"

"Yes?"

"…why do you look so sad?"

"Hm?"

"He took out something from his pocket. Syringe…? And a weird…Wait. Don't do this, Alex. Please, don't."

"What do you think that is?"

"Is it revenge from me injecting that medicine into him? No…that couldn't be it. OHHhhh…!"

"What do you feel?"

"Oooh…"

"Where are you now?"

"I'm in, I'm in the closet. He, he put me there. Oooh…"

"Focus. Don't lose me. What do you feel?"

"I know this feeling. I was in the same room with the pranking bunch of the soldiers when I was fresh in the military…They played a trick on me with this. I know this feeling. I know this…This…"

"Calm down. Gather up your thoughts. What do you feel?"

"Elated…? Feels so…good. In a place of…beauty. Never thought I'd say that, but yes. In a place of beauty."

"Let's get back to what happened."

"Ahhh!"

"Hold, hold it. Calm down."

"LSD...!"

"LSD?"

"That's it...! I know now...! Acid. LSD. He injected me with it after he tased me. I remember…I remember my fellow soldiers injecting me when I was asleep at my bunk so many years ago…They wanted me to know what it feels like, LSD… It's a blur, but I see it now. He injected me. Then he slung my arm over his shoulder. I think I kind of walked with him because I was dazed. And now here I am, in the closet."

"Good. Did he say anything?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"…oh."

"Hmm?"

"So it wasn't a dream after all."

"What is?"

"He said thankyou."

"Thankyou?"

"Yeah. He shook my shoulders before thanking me again. And closed the door. I'm starting to feel sleepy…"

"How is he the last time you see him?"

"Sad. Wait."

"Hmm?"

"I see him through the closet doors."

"Small opening?"

"Very small, yes."

"What is he doing now?"

"Pacing around, but gets winded doing that. Maybe he lost too much blood. He sits on the bed."

"M-hmm."

"He has a walkie-talkie on his hand. My walkie."

"What is he doing with it?"

"Fidgeting with it. Trying to maybe call someone. Or be called. Oh, something went through. Wait. What?"

"Hmm?"

"Why…he's not supposed to- He lied!"

"Who lied?"

"The walkies are supposed to be out of range, unless…"

"Who lied?"

"Deputy James Wheeler."

"What? Why?"

"He's not supposed to even be able to call. This is not right…He lied."

"About?"

"He was supposed to be with Jill while she drove back here with the survivors. He must've driven back to Blake's Lake after a while of following Jill."

"…so he radioed Alex on the walkie talkie. What did he say?"

"He's asking Alex a few questions. Alex did not say much."

"How does the Deputy sound? Anxious?"

"Yes. Very agitated."

"Interesting. Can you hear what they are talking about?"

"No. Yes. Some."

"Just tell me anything you hear."

"I can't hear the Deputy. He said many things but only radio static is repeating in my head…I can't hear what he's saying."

"Understandable. Drugs tend to do that. Tell me what you can hear from Alex."

"'I can't do this', 'Yeah. Call them. Do it.', 'I can't drag everyone into this.', 'It's for the best, Wheeler.'…He then puts aside that walkie and taser. He's lying down."

"Lying down on where?"

"…on the bed."

"What is he doing?"

"…Sleeping."

"Hmm. Weird."

"Yeah…Weird."

…

…

…

"Ah!"

"Hmm? What's happening?"

"People. Footsteps. They bashed in through the door…!"

"Wait. Now stop. Can you see their faces?"

"No. They're wearing gas masks. Why would you even need a gas mask? Wait a minute...Are those military uniforms?"

"Are they different from normal military uniforms?"

"The clothings' all black and very dark blue. The military equipment is all there...Is that Secret Service or something...?"

"Hmm. Continue. What did they do?"

"Alex's awake. There's three men in the room. Two of them stood on the bed and yanked him up."

"M-hmm. Alex is?"

"Struggling…I think. Not much resistance, but struggling."

"What are the men doing?"

"One held his hands behind his back, and the other one is mocking him in the face. Calling him black blood or something."

"Uh-huh."

"Alex is quiet. Ahh, the guy did not like that. He slapped him. *Gasp*"

"Hm?"

"He slapped Alex's face to the side. Alex's looking this way. Ah he looked down away from me."

"M-Hmm."

"…why did you hide me? Did you know this would happen?"

"…"

"…why…?"

"…what do you see?"

"They're dragging him to the bathroom. They're filling up the bathtub. They shoved his head under that showering water. They seem to be…asking him questions."

"What questions? Can you hear them?"

"Interrogating him. They dragged him and threw him to the bathroom door. He's not saying anything, looking away from them…Oh…he looked over here again…He closed his eyes…There's really something about him looking at you…you know…I can't put my finger on it."

"…"

"Oh no…Don't tell me they're doing what I think they're gonna do…!"

"Do what?"

"The bathtub's filled up. They pick him up by the hair and collar. The other one just stood there like a rock and watched. The two pick him up by his limbs. They're…argh…! They're gonna dunk him…!"

"Calm down, Chris Redfield. Breathe in for a second. That's it."

"…They're not just interrogating him. They're just having fun."

"Having fun?"

"I've just heard roughly on what they've said. Their questions made no sense. They're just having fun torturing him."

"What are they doing?"

"Having fun."

"Having fun?"

"…"

"Very, very good, Chris!"

"…?!"

"I have never encountered anyone who's able to avoid talking in a session before!"

"…what are you…talking about…"

"Let me tell you something, Chris. No one has been able to avoid talking before. And you avoiding questions…Let us just say that it is not supposed to happen."

"What…do you mean…?!"

"It means that you're hiding something from me. Tell me everything, Chris. It's for your own good."

"…"

"Start again from what you said about them having fun."

"…"

"Take your time."

"The one that didn't participate stood in the middle of the bedroom, not wanting to have anything to do this. One got into the bathtub and pushed Alex down. The other…"

"Yes."

"…The other one unzips his pants and starts…-"

"Alright. I get your point, Chris. I apologized for having pushed."

"…It's so weird…! It's so sick…!"

"I can imagine."

"No, you can't! You can't possibly-"

"Believe me, Chris Redfield. I can."

"…"

"So however odd things may get, do not hesitate to tell me what happens, is that clear?"

"…Yes sir."

"So, continue, please."

"Ugh, it's so sick…! I can hear it…I can hear it…his puking of the water and his cries… I can see his arm flailing out of the tub. The one leaving himself out of this is covering his ears and looking away. He's walking out of the bedroom. He doesn't want to hear it."

"And then?"

"Oh my God! How can you- How can y-you take pleasure from that?! Damn you! You son of a bitch!"

"Calm down. Calm down. Fast forward. Don't re-live the minutes."

"Shit. Minutes? Minutes? Yes. Minutes. Feels like hours! About twenty minutes, I think. They pull him out, and dropped him to the floor. He's convulsing and puking out more water…Say they'll deal with him later. They leave a bit. The other one who didn't join came in after they went out. He helps him after he's done helping Alex throw up the water. That's funny…Why is he helping him…?"

"Hmm, indeed."

"He's helping him to the bed and covering him up with the blanket, all wet. He's still in shock and doesn't know what to do. He's fidgeting and pacing around because the other guys will be back anytime."

"Now fast forward for a while. Did they come back?"

"Yes. Eventually. They push that other guy over, mocking and laughing at him. Alex's sitting up. The men do not like the look Alex gave them, so one comes over and backhands him in the face. He is sprawling across the bed now, he's not getting up. He has no strength in him. God, why must I re-live this? Why do I have to tell you this?"

"So that his suffering will not be in vain."

"No. No. No!"

"Chris?"

"They're dragging him to the bathroom again. That guy told them to stop, but who one who dunked Alex pointed a gun at him. The other one that's sick in the head is dragging Alex back, laughing. Oh no."

"Tell me."

"He's drowning him again. He's drowning him again…! He's drowning hi- SHIT! Oh, shit!"

"Shh. Calm yourself."

_BANG_

"He fired!"

"Fired? Oh, fired a gun. Who fired?"

"The guy who helped Alex. He tried to protest, but he shot him. He's down. I think I hear Alex screaming. He knows what's going on."

_BANG_

"Huh? He fired again. Huh? It wasn't the guy with the gun. Shit. What the hell's going on."

"Who is it?"

"Two more people came into the room."

"Can you see their faces?"

"No. They're in gas masks like the others in here too. They even wear the same stuff. They should be a team…A very bad team."

"I would agree. Who fired the gun?"

_BANG_ _BANG_

"One of the people that came in fired it. The guy who shot Alex's sympathizer didn't realize he's shot in the head until one, two more shots is fired at the back of his head…The guy in the bathroom stops and came out cursing..."

_BANG_ _BANG_

"The guy shot him too. Between the eyes and at the side of his head. Ugh, his brains came out. I think he's dead. The guy who fired the gun is the taller one of the two. He's going to the bathroom. He's picking Alex up. He's saying something to him. Alex's holding on to his neck. I'd tell him not to follow them, but I can't blame him and I don't know what's going on. And I'm getting…very sleepy…"

"Okay, pause. Breathe in. Breathe out. Yes…Now, what's happening?"

"Alex's cold. His face is white. He's shivering so badly. He's holding on to the taller guy. The guy is constantly telling him something, and he carries him out of the room with the other teammate. They leave three people back in the room like nothing bad happened."

"This should be the majority of the things happened. What do you feel now?"

"Sleepy. But I don't want to."

"Don't want to?"

"Don't want to fall asleep…Wait, don't leave...! Are they saving him or _taking hyum..._"

"Don't worry. I know exactly what he gave you."

"_…y-you do?_"

"Very much so, Chris Redfield. I am just not going to tell you now, or you will antagonize me more than ever. That will be very inconvenient."

"…"

"That's it. That's why you should sleep to your heart's content. You cannot fight the drugs."

"Aye-m_ not ashleep…_"

"It is alright. Sleep. Then your helicopter comes. Then you can tell me what you see."

* * *

><p>They say things come to the people who wait, but patience doesn't really apply when there's a deadline or an emergency. Jill paced at the corridor, letting her palms slide across the banisters. When the door finally clicked and creaked open, she jumped lightly, paced towards her long-time partner quickly, and noticed an expression so mixed she could not wait to hear what he had to say.<p>

"How was it, Chris? Are you okay?"

"Jill," Chris was tired; he placed his hand on her shoulder both for support and for attention. "Jill."

"Yes? Are you okay? Did it work? Did you find out anything?"

"Jill," Chris repeated, trying to remember something. "We have someone here, don't we?"

"Huh?"

"Someone…Someone was brought back by the evac team with me."

"Oh my God…" Jill gasped. "_It did work_."

"There was this guy…" Chris slurred. "A guy…The guy…"

"Relax, Chris."

"NO! Wait! Let me…let me get this out…! Shit, why am I so tired? Doesn't make sense...! A guy…He could tell us what is going on…" Chris slumped into her arms. "…He wuz shot…"

"My God…" Jill gaped in disbelief as she tried to balance her awe and her body with a heavier man on her. "_Chris_."

"Yeah, I'm right, aren't I?" Chris held her shoulders and shook them, his words less comprehensible as he got excited in his exhaustion. "He got shot! I saw em' got shot! He's shot in the chest! In the chest…"

"Chris, you need rest."

"Y-you need ta tell me first…" Chris's half-opened eyes struggled to stay up. "Please, tell me. I'm not dreaming…I saw de chopper team take him away before, before zthey took me come out of the closet…!"

"Chris, you are right," Jill laughed and almost cried in disbelief. "There's a guy besides you in the room that was evac-ed. He was wearing the same attire as the two other dead people. Yes, he was shot! You're not the only one the team rescued…!"

"Is he hokay…Isshe alive…" He struggled to keep his words understandable as he started to slip into an unwanted slumber.

"Yes, Chris. Yes! He's alive, Chris!" Jill yelled. "Now sleep, don't worry. We'll do everything once you've gotten your rest, okay?"

"Rest agehn…?…hookay…" Chris let his eyelids droop and he fell limp completely, surrendering himself into sleep. The mind…is such a troublesome thing…

"Don't worry, Chris. Deputy Wheeler is just getting ready to leave the town to investigate this matter too. You just rest, okay? I-I, it's time for me to leave for Florida, and I'm just glad I get to see you finish up before I go." Jill shook his shoulders. "Everything's going to be okay. Don't worry, 'kay, partner?"

"Whu-wait! It's night already…?! Wai- Depdhy Wheelur, don't letum leave, he's-…"

"Chris? Chris?" Jill patted at his back. "Darn, I have to get the staff to drag your butt downstairs. Wait here."

"J-Jill…" Chris's inaudible moan was blocked out by the hasty pounds of footsteps on the wooden corridor; his heart sank as the sound descended down the stairs. "The cop's…lying…"

_Don't let him leave, Jill._

_He knows more than we realize._

* * *

><p><em>"Give that back! Give it…!"<em>

_A sharp slap across the face and it made him bite on his tongue. Blood trailed down the side of his mouth. _

_Ahh, he wanted to run away, turn his whole body inside out, upside down, to bury his head in the ground. He felt so shameful, so humiliated. But all he could do was keep his face turned away in the position he was left in, because another man was holding his hands behind his back. He couldn't look up. He just couldn't._

_"Hmm, so this is Alex Shepherd huh." The guy who slapped him flapped the photograph in the air in front of him. "He's not as ugly as I thought he would be. When they said 'sacrifice' you'd expect him to look like a goat or a cow or something!" They both bawled with hysterical laughter. He took the chance to struggle, and they stopped their laughing, pissed that he's ruined their happy time._

_"Now there," The man with his photo yanked his hair backwards. He hissed in pain. "We've heard you're familiar with this hellhole they call 'Silent Hill'. I personally don't give a shit, but...from the amount of people returning from our missions, namely 'none', I think we'll need a guide…"_

_"Uh…" He struggled in his captor's hold, knowing all too well that he's not strong enough. But maybe it would make him feel better that he at least did try._

_"Well, of course, your reward will be your life until the end of the mission where we decide if we will be kind or otherwise. So until then," The masked bastard patted his face. "We thank you for your help."_

_"…"_

_"Let me give you a tip, cherry boy. When you make a certain glum face like that, you'll make... certain people want to bully you more, no matter what age you are." The man licked the blood off side of his chin. He couldn't help but let out a whimper as his stomach clenched. "And just so to let you know, cherry boy, I personally find that look most tempting in their thirties. Think about it: They're just starting to get ripe into a real man, just like a baby starting to become an intelligible human. Makes them all the worthwhile to toy with. Consider it adult paedophilia, to be a little bit poetic. So don't make me hurt you, 'kay?" A playful pinch on his cheek made him shiver as he darted his sights to the side. How can anyone sound so refreshed and excited saying those things? It made him afraid, it made him sick! "I have the hunch that I will really like you!" The delight in that remark made his stomach churn so much that he's surprised it didn't digest itself. He was shaking very hard, and he hated that he couldn't just freaking hell control it!_

_"This guy must've never gotten laid!" A bark of laughter sounded behind him and the two resumed their laughter again, wheezing "Virgin boy, virgin man" as they laughed on._

_Hey, he happened to be quite proud of that._

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	15. Definition of Waste

**Summary:** Just weeks after defeating Wesker, the same threat that hit Kijuju has hit the United States of America from the bottom of the country with a big blow. As agents in the B.S.A.A. North American branch, Chris Redfield and his newly recovered partner Jill Valentine have to respond immediately to a minor case in a secluded town in the north-east of the country before it gets out of hand. Alex Shepherd was the first person he met in the town. This mission would shake Chris's soul like never before, which he did not realize was the same the other way round.

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk.  
><strong>

Notes: Previous chapter's language has minor flaws. Will correct when possible.

Do you believe in love? Do you believe in anything at all? Will it be in time?

* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 15: Definition of Waste

* * *

><p><em>Chris,<em>

_I'm leaving this letter to you just in case you do not come out in time._

_I say this because I cannot delay my departure later than tonight. The evac crew was already very pinched for time when they agreed to come here to help us. I think they agreed partly because they want us senior agents to go back there to help out. Tonight is the latest I will wait for you. They are not going to wait any longer than that. I am not saying you are a sick man that needs a long time in the doctor's office, but you know me. Just a back-up plan to tell you what I may not be able to tell you. Who knows. _

_OK. That was a lie. It was a hunch. But moving on to the real thing, here's the deal:_

_When the evac team came to your aid via the GPS to your cell, they found three men lying in the room, with one alive, shot in the chest. He was distressed when he told them that "they took him away" before fainting. We brought him back but there was no ID, and the chief deputy here refused to take him in since it was not his "job", apparently. The man is dressed in an unknown military or SWAT type of dark blue uniform. Never seen that before. He has been put into Alex's original room to recuperate. The key to his room is in his office desk on the first floor. Take key 206 from the chain of backups. Do not tell anyone that it is at the end of the second drawer of Alex's desk, hidden behind a leather book, as I was told. Now only you, I and Wheeler know this now._

_The deputy is going to be out of town for a while. He was too upset at the news and drove off before I could stop him. Please remember at this point we cannot trust anyone unless it is sufficient to our judgement that they might be trusted. And by that I mean do not let your guard down, not even against the Deputy. I mean it this time. I just don't like it here._

_All I can do now is to wish you every success that I can think of. I really wish that I could help, but there are too many matters at hand. I will try to contact you but it will be very hard. I think all this time we have been using direct satellite communication which saps our cell power dry very quickly. You better charge up. _

_Ask our lodger inmate questions. This is your choice for once. I know this is a pressing time, but don't worry about me for once. Even though this is not the best situation for it, let it not be me in the picture, but yourself. I know this is not a joke, but a real zombie hoard, or a really mysterious man! Who knows you'll win a prize?_

_Jokes aside, be safe Chris. I mean it._

_._

_Jill_

* * *

><p>Downstairs in the brightly-lit lounge, children laughed and chased each other around. Chattering of adults and some clinking of glasses could also be heard, apparently enjoying conversations on glasses of alcohol which filled the air with a mild tang of mellowness.<p>

Chris walked up the stairs and towards Room 206, still groggy from yet another sleep session after Alex has been taken. He cursed at this…doctor living upstairs, the organ in his chest beating slower than expected, given the whirl of his head's motors were running at this…madness. Considering what he had just been through, the fact that every person other than him was utterly oblivious to the previous confusing whirl of events raging inside his head...was _crazy_. Crazy! He could only...imagine...what's going on inside Alex's head...? If only anyone other than him under this roof knows what had just transpired. Everything that was…wasn't. Was something going to happen to this town? He couldn't really wrap this whole thing up and call it _something_. He can only slap a description on it and call it fishy. Something was brewing. He could feel the looming growl of Trouble ready to lunge at any moment. It was no series of coincidences; they all surely coagulated into one solid case. A case that majorly revolved around Alex Shepherd, a guy he had just barely gotten to know. No, really. Seriously…Was he a nutcase? Were the people out there to get him nutcases too? No, wait. No, no, no.

Just snap out from that memory drawer out flew the very reel of his first ever meeting of the superior that he couldn't help but hold such fascination with. "_Wow! This man is the absolute definition of perfect!" _He remembered thinking to himself when his then captain had shot a gun off a terrorist's hand, dashed to the guy's face somehow and did this strong-stance punch that sent the man hurling backwards. Ahh, the good old days. The days when he had a promising career that was indefinitely for the good, a person to aspire to be, and generally a great life ahead of him that he's going to enjoy living, albeit a rather dangerous one. He'll enjoy working with very good and competent friends and colleagues, at least. It was fine. Very, fine, in fact. Everything was perfect, until the betrayal unfolded…

Damn his head. Why was he thinking of this all of a sudden?

Ahh.

Of course.

The same thing happened to him – Chris Redfield.

A conspiracy. He did not believe the whole horror of what was happening in the Arklay Mansion until he's seen the Tyrant. He did not believe his revered captain was the perpetrator until the man's gloved hand landed on the switch. He can still feel his heart sink, sink, sink, as the containing unit's fluid drained. His heart stopped when giant claws went through his captain's body. It remembered how to beat again at the tremor of the ground when the bio-weapon took its first thundering steps on the floor, with a splat. Splash. Splat. Coming towards him. God.

Alex might had just as well be one of any of the test subjects that Wesker had captured whom let's just say escaped; how would any normal man even _believe_ him if he told everyone that he was kidnapped by a madman scientist who tried to play crazy surgeon with him?

Exactly.

Who would?

Nobody believed him and Jill when they came out of there alive to tell the tale. Not until when things started to get too late, that is.

Alex's evident frustration, his condescending scoffs, and lastly, his despairing looks telling Chris all he needed to know which he failed to understand back then. It all clicked. It was hard to believe that he told his whole story to this guy and he did not connect the dots between that man's dilemma to his own experience.

No one had known what their revered Captain really was inside, until that Tyrant was released that made them realize that it was too late. No one believed them until the outbreak was an epidemic. Nothing effective was done until they took up arms and formed the BSAA.

This was 'too late' a second time.

_Shit._

But why couldn't Alex just tell him? That made Chris mad. But then he scolded himself because he had clearly shown that he didn't believe Alex when he himself had just came back from a mission in Africa where people did the exact same ritualistic sacrifices with animals **_and_** humans! Okay, things might be different, that's a given, but why couldn't he just listen to the man first?

_Damn it! Damn you, Chris Redfield! **Damn you!**_

He went to the door, steadier than he thought he was able to, hand on the smooth wood. A little less restraint and he'd punch it hard. Damn it. To think that doubt should never be on the field, he has broken that rule and it had slowed him down on key moments where he should have acted. He leaned his head on the door, producing a knock and an oddly comforting pain on his forehead. He couldn't understand it. Why did he care so much? Is this because this is out-of-duty work?

Head against the door of 206, he closed his eyes, heaved a giant sigh from his chest, and swallowed, answer coming to him in an epiphany as he saw the Alex's eyes looking into his again, darting away, as if knowing he would not understand.

He failed him. He failed himself. He failed whatever that he came here to do. He should have known. He felt so damned **ANGRY**! Shit, shit, shit, **SHIT**!

_Am I just taking this too personally?_

"Damn it. Why do I feel this way?! Stop feeling, stop thinking, dammit!" His forehead connected with the door's surface again; not hard enough to make an alarming bang, but hard enough to hurt his head. A self-made payback to make him feel better, perhaps. He may also have needed that distraction to take him away from the incessant ticking of his internal clock; he knew that every second on whichever ground he stood on other than Blake's Lake's was wasted time. His wounded conscience (and ego, maybe) was getting Alex's safety issue nowhere. But what should he do?

"C-Come in?"

A male voice as timid as one could possibly sound came from behind the door, shattering his guilt trip to a refreshed curiosity and a reminder of something that he must do... Something that he _definitely_ must do. He almost felt…relieved. The man did not sound like he would lash out or give him a difficult time. As soon as he let go the air from his lungs in relief, he inserted the key into the knob and _click_.

Very slowly, the wooden door opened as he fought the twisting of his stomach when he turned the doorknob. He held it there, hearing the creak of the hinges, not daring to go in. God, he was so nervous, he could die! What would that guy do? Was this guy tied and chained to the bed? Will he kick and scream the moment their eyes meet? What would he look like? It did not matter, really. The source of the nervousness was him not knowing what front to put up. The good cop? The bad cop? The friendly pal? The solemn messenger? What?

Argh. Was this not like simple routine police interrogations? Sure, he was never really the type to conduct interrogations throughout his career, but still! Having this much nervousness inside of him made him feel utterly humiliated. _Seriously? A military career for so long and I'm reduced to this? Seriously? It's not even Alex at the other end of the door that I have to answer for. It's some guy that's supposed to answer to **me**!_

That was over-confirmed, especially when he set his eyes on the supposed bad-guy's face, it begs the question: Why was such a passive-looking man with the kidnapping crew?

Is this man a spy? After all, spies are supposed to be as unsuspicious as possible. Kind of like a psychopath blending into normal society. But…as per the memories brought to the forefront by the mysterious doctor, this was also the person who he saw in his memories who tried to help Alex Shepherd when the latter was suffering, and it did not seem like it was faked. There it was, that patch and bandage on his chest from his gunshot wound as proof!

The sight of the man really messed Chris up. All of the mental preparation he had was shattered. He really did not expect the guy to look like…like _this!_

The subject looked quite shaken, certainly afraid, but he did not look mousy or cowardly like that guy…Irving, he believed from his last mission (not a pleasant, or even a memorable guy for that matter). Ashy brown hair and a borderline-scared face. A very vivid brown-amber eyes stared anxiously into his giving the impression of him being innocent. The guy was merely a decent-looking guy who looked like he's not been out in the sun for two weeks for Christ's sake! _This_ was the guy behind the mask of the kidnappers? Well, he did try to help Alex out, that's a given, but this…this was unexpected. He must not judge a book by its cover…not judge a book by its cover…

_Don't judge a book by its cover…Argh, just remember that shit!_

"I'm Chris Redfield," His mouth started before he thought about anything at all, and it sounded more casual than a colleague in your average job, thank goodness for that. He didn't want to freak the guy out even more than the man already was. "And I have loads, loads of questions for you." He could almost hear the gulping sound as he saw that lump of the man's throat bobble downwards to swallow and found that behind all the doubt that he had, he himself actually had more of a natural tendency to show confidence than an awful lot of people, if an awful lot of them were like this guy in front of him. You know, because that's most of the people he met here. Are most townspeople in these parts like this? Timid, odd and indirect in expressing what they think?

"I-I, Let, let me-"

"What." Chris almost gawked as his anticipation peaked through the roof at what this man was about to say.

He heard a clack of metal pulling against wood. He looked to the right side of bed to find the man's left hand cuffed to the end of the wooden headboard. He looked back to see the man almost at the verge of crying.

"T-Toilet. I need to go to the toilet…!"

Chris's knees buckled and he almost fell. Could a human be more deflated than he was right now?

_This can NOT be coincidence. What are the chances of two people in a row begging me to let them go to the bathroom?_

He removed his palm from his stinging face from slapping his own forehead. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in breathe out. That rush of rage, guilt, confusion, all in one go.

"Just go." Chris dejectedly unlocked the handcuffs, escorted him to the bathroom, made sure there wasn't a single blade in the bathroom this time, and went out to sit on an armchair. Sighing heavily, he took a look at the brown book with a genuine leather smell to its cover in his hand that he had almost used to whack himself with when he facepalmed.

As he had took the chain of duplicate keys in the office, he couldn't help but notice the book. Maybe it's because it was mentioned by Jill in her letter? He really liked the look, and the feel of the book. He took a peek, oh yes he did, when he was picking out key 206. He opened a random page and slapped it shut.

He told himself, _God I'm so gonna read this._

He justified it by musing how this would show any information related to the case. But screw it. That was actually a minor reason. He needed to kill some time while interrogating this prisoner and as cliché it may sound, "IT'S PAYBACK TIME!"

* * *

><p><em>SILENT HILL<em>  
><em>SILENT HILL<em>  
><span> <em>SILENT HILL<em> 

* * *

><p><em>[2007, Sunday]<em>

_Wheeler insisted that I write something down on this journal he gave me before he goes nuts. I mean how could HE go nuts while I'M the one who's going to write something so hard to re-live about? I just couldn't lie to him convincingly that I've used this book to write down my thoughts. It's not like it's not my private thing, Wheeler. It's a diary after all. But I just couldn't just say yes: I used the journal, and yes I've written my thoughts down to try to let things heal. But no, I just couldn't lie to him and move things on. It's so hard to lie._

_Either way, Alex Shepherd here. Thought I was a soldier, but turned out I was not. Thought it would be a great homecoming, but it was not. Thought that the town would do better without me, and HELL NO it did not. _

_Thought that I'd made my parents proud, _

_I…_

_I think it's not until that level, but at least I know they _

_Can I not write "loved me"? Well, they did, but I'm not going to put that word in the same sentence as the previous one. Not until I'm ready. Either way, at least I know now that they did, but still, at such an expense… _

_I don't even want to write anything specific about that place now. How would Wheeler even know I've written anything in this book? I'll just tell him that I've written something if he asks me. And make it convincing this time. I've scribbled something on the previous entry didn't I? Even if I did not, what does that have to do with him? Man, the guilt trips he gives me sometimes. I know his heart is in the right place though. I'm just weak to sincerity, I suppose. Or emotion._

_Anyway, if there's any good news, it's that I've just been promoted to manager of this inn in Blake's Lake! Well, not promoted, but come on, let me live the moment a bit. Okay, well this town's also kind of old like my hometown, but it's desolated before and now the rich descendants are in the middle of coming back and building it up, unlike mine which was in a way the total other way round. I just came out of that damned town I used to call home and got lucky by stopping in this one. One of the descendants who happened to be the owner of this Inn With No Name just gave me the job as a manager (we just never named it and left it that way. Somehow that gained hype among the tourists). Snap. Just like that. They needed people badly, and I guess I did fine, because I'm into my 3rd month here now. The money's very good and all that, but I don't really use it on anything other than food, really. I'm just lucky to have a place to stay almost immediately after being a refugee and I'm living a normal life now. I need to thank the Deputy after this entry (luckily they had the post free; he's still a Deputy. Kind of funny how he's not promoted and wants to stay that way.), he's come over often to help with stuff. I'm grateful. _

_And I haven't talked about Elle, haven't I? She's an old friend. Known her since forever. For now, she's been coping, I guess. Ever since what she went through you can say that her world's fallen apart. She stays in the inn and goes out to work as a tour guide. Refusing to only eat and sleep is so not her. Although she does like to laze around a lot, she doesn't like to look dependant. She talks less now, but get this: She actually admires me for living like nothing happened. Let's just say it's hard on me too; I've had nightmares almost every night. But I guess acting strong for the sake of others also feels kind of good too. I really want to see the old Elle again. Cheerful, mischievous, tomboyish…_

_You know…I think I should marry her. She's the only one I know, right? That's perfect sense, isn't it? But we need some time to recover from all this bullshit we've been through. Maybe next time I'll think about this again, but I doubt she will ever recover. She looks like she's ready to snap if we even mention about it, so we never bring that up, so I think that's one of the reasons Wheeler's been bugging ME to just talk about it, to just let it all out. But just because he just couldn't get Elle to speak up doesn't mean I should make up for her portion. I can't even go halfway when I tried every time, but again, I'll need to thank him later. I appreciate all his help._

_That's it from me I guess. We all need time._

* * *

><p><em>[March, 2009. Wednesday]<em>

_It's been quite a while, isn't it? I find it hard to believe that I'm still keeping this book, but I'm even more surprised to find that I actually am in the mood to write in this dusty journal again. But I did have an interesting day today. So maybe writing it down would be fun._

_I put _ _Avon_ _ off to laundry work again and I manned his counter post. Call me a coward, but I like the feeling of people coming up and smiling and pretend that it's just for me. I know the smiles are for their vacation, but at least I see smiles. Cowardice. I know._

But at least commend me for faring better with problematic customers. Today there was a ruckus started by that customer, I don't really remember his weird name. Either way, he's a rich guy, and paid for a long stay in the inn with hard cash in one go. What happened was that he came down half-wet and half-naked with only a towel on, shouting about getting ice-cold water. He yelled at me almost as loud as my Dad did (actually I think it was a lot louder) but I kept my composure. I guess coming from a family like Dad's does have its benefits. But to tell you the truth? He's not much of a challenge to listen to; he sounds like those foreign guys that I saw on that drama once. And remind me that elongating one's name isn't going to sound intimidating at all. "Alexander" ("ALEKXANDER!" _ Intimidating, I'm sure), he called me after shooting a look at the name holder on the counter. I think I actually went red a bit. Aside from it making me sound a bit manlier than I will ever give myself the credit to, if he wasn't so furious I might had just as well burst out laughing! I'm sure he called me all sorts of names but I couldn't understand half of it. The nervous workers of the inn watched with their heads popping out of the cafeteria door. It was very funny, and cute if you will. They looked like J._

_I just can't write the name. I just can't._

_Either gained a ton of respect for me from that experience and I took the chance to organize a meeting. I voiced out problems around the inn like the hot water supply that the Angry Man (overly-)complained about, and that unstable electricity we've had. Of course with that newfound respect I think they will get to it right away. And I'll watch Sean when he does the wire work, because I seriously forgot how I made it through in the power generator in you-know-where trying to free Wheeler. I might as well learn (or re-learn) it properly this time. I should have done this meeting earlier, but I had no confidence in ordering people older than me around. With this incident it gave me the chance to bypass that. Thank the fucking Lord for this blessing in disguise._

_This is about it. But I must say that gaining respect and trust by your own efforts feels very fulfilling or something. I never felt that at home. But I had no idea I would gain that, especially with this incident. I really thought that I was going to LOSE that respect instead with the staff watching me being a "pussy" (that's what that Angry Guy called me, anyway). _

_Best day yet, in a weird way. I hope he won't explode again for whatever reason for the next few weeks he's staying here._

* * *

><p>Doesn't sound like a bad guy, really. There's a lot of things he did not know, for sure. But then at least he knew now that this Alex person sure had some issues. Then again aside from that, the life for this man was pretty much normal, at least.<p>

"Err, umm, hello? Th-there's no toilet paper in here…!"

At least for now.

* * *

><p>"Oh my GOD, oh my GOD OH MY GODOHMYGOD SAVE ME! THIS IS NOT HAPPENING! AHHHHHHHHHGRHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHGHRK!"<p>

"Stop! STOP, damn it! Wasn't it me that you want? Why?"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THIS! Is what we want! What **_I_** want!"

"What…Ugh…"

"Come on, boy. Puke. Puuuuuke. And if God allows it, I want to see your body convulse when you defecate in your cell. Glad they put a toilet in there eh? You're lucky. But I suppose that's for being the One. I don't get to touch you, but you'll get the pleasure from seeing me doing what I do to this fella here, eh? And I get the pleasure from seeing _you_ seeing what I do."

"You…you sick fuck…Just stop it! It's not helping anybody!"

"Oh, it's helping somebody alright. Helpin' me to live my way, helpin' me to have fun, helpin' God to come around maybe, helpin' us not to die so fast."

"Wh-wha?…What do you want from me?! It's hopeless. You're already insane. You're _all_ **insane**!"

"Yessss…Hopelessness."

"What…?"

"It's what we want from you."

Deflated.

Collapsed.

Flattened.

Void.

Empty.

God, are you even there. Listen to my plea. Do something.

God, oh God can't you hear those screams

God, oh God.

…God?

God

God

God god god god god god god god god god god god god god god god

god

god

god…!

...

god

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	16. Dreams of Reality

**Disclaimer: All respective characters unless created by own are property of Capcom or Konami, used on basis of fanwork.**

**WARNING: Do not read on if you are appalled by possible depiction on themes of death, torture, depression and explicit abnormal sexual behaviour ('Possible' as this is currently a work-in-progress). Read at your own risk. (Please note torture is added. Again, read at your own risk.)**

I hope you will understand this, moreover enjoy it. Thanks for reading.

**Notes:** This story may suck in your eyes, but it actually takes a toll by trying to write it, because firstly I can relate to it in a very far-fetched way and secondly, it takes time, thirdly, there's ALWAYS new ideas coming around that I must find ways to fit them in, fourthly, other obligations and finally fifthly, again, it really does take a toll on me by writing this (and I mean this in a humble, non-bragging type of way), in other words it is torture. Plain and simple.

But all I ask of you is: If this is to your taste, please read it, and if you read it, I hope you understand it, and if you do understand it, I hope you managed to enjoy it. And finally if you really feel like you can't hold back from saying something, do comment via the reviews or send me a message, whichever you think appropriate, and I am welcome to feedbacks and discussions, no matter how stupid you think it might be that's holding you back from asking your question - because the more stupid you think it is, the more likely I have been there as well trying to write this.

Without further ado, I present to you - Dreams of Reality. I'd think of a better title but I'm seriously done waiting longer to figure something out that's already self-sufficient.

Until next time, folks - Stay alive.

* * *

><p>Sachael In Purgatory: Agnus Dei<p>

Chapter 16: Dreams of Reality

"Holy fuck…!" He had just been moved to the cell he was adjacent to, made to stand in front of this…young man no older than he is. Two men held each of his arms. Five other people were at either side of him, just…watching. He doesn't understand. The two behind him pressed his head into…this young man…this young man's exposed guts. It's like a big sick joke…but none of them are laughing. In fact, the atmosphere was so serious he thought he is in a dream.

But coming from his experience he knows…this isn't a dream. He smelled blood and guts. The liquid on his right cheek that pulls at his skin as it hardens. He knows if he licks outside his lips he's going to taste it and he knows he's going to puke. They just held his head and… mushed it into the mess of small intestines. The man above him actually cried out in terror and pain, and he himself tried his absolute hardest to not let out any yells or screams at this madness. He swallowed hard and when he exhaled his throat let out a sound that whimpers the screaming intention that he wants to squirm away so bad.

"Agree to stay, and this child shall be given clemency." Was the monotonous demand that came from one of the black-robed people at his right.

Wimp is the word he often heard from his father and he himself really believed and still kind of does in his down periods, but when those words came out, everything came crashing down as his eyes and nose stung with a mix of emotions. His quiet self blew up.

"WHAT?! You kidnap and kill so many young people, just for- THIS?! For ME?!"

"This is more than it seems in your eyes, but then if we did not, will you have complied?"

The expression "turned off" was definitely not fitting for the dire moment, but as fast as his ball of crackling emotions flared up it turned off in an instant.

All these deaths, God knows how many, are all because of him.

"…Have some dignity, will you." He mustered all the remaining will he had to make those words glare at the cloaked, hooded men.

"Dignity is but a creation of the feeble-minded to justify their weakness. You are the key to our salvation, and the salvation of many who are not us. Consider this your consolation for now."

_Consolation? _

** _CONSOLATION?!_ **

"How can I be consoled when there's a boy in front of me with his guts out in the open! How?!"

"If that is what it takes for you to comply, then so be it."

"COMPLY TO WHAT?! What the **_fuck_** is this! Why don't you just take me in the first place?! WHY THESE PEOPLE?! They had nothing to do with this…!"

"…That's because of you, dear angel." Strong fingers took hold of his jaw and jerked to face the hooded man talking to him. The gentleness in his voice is equally unsettling as it is frightening. "You are needed. They would not accept anyone else."

"Wha-" He starts, but with those ambiguous words, they unravel as a thorough explanation in him, that he somehow…_knows_. He just couldn't put his finger on it yet. "I see you understand, even if partially, your destiny, young one."

"Get away from me. Just…Get. Away." He knew when he puts this together the revelation is going to crush him so bad he just wants these freaks away from him and leave the piecing-together of his thoughts to as late as he can. He crouched and held his head in his hands. He tried to be strong and even allow himself to be enraged but this is just it. He's done. It's all just so fucked up. "Leave me alone."

"Until we get your answer, we shall retire." As if in a hive mind, the hooded figures started to leave in unison before that single hooded man at his right could finish his sentence. "And, oh, before we forget – Don't change, Alex Shepherd."

He looks at them with both contempt and confusion, which stopped at their tracks and their covered faces darkened by their hoods facing him all at the same time. He flinched and took a step backwards, uncomfortable sinking fear is instantly thrown into his mix of turbulent emotions.

Again, one of them, but it is the same male voice that was on his right spoke for them all:

"It is what draws them to you, and it is that which would save us all."

Whatever it was that 'draws them to him', he was being used. He was so totally being used. He is so unwilling to participate in all of this, yet he knows the consequences of not doing so, and he is so tempted to kill every one of these hooded figures in this room by bashing their heads in, but they outnumber him by seven to one, and if he fails, this young man…; his dignity couldn't take either side. He's dead either way. But this young man right here… he doesn't deserve all this…!

God knows how bad he wanted to just be out of this. Be in his simple (but actually nicely designed and refreshing) bedroom or just a sewer somewhere.

He never imagined he would be in this hell ever again. But he knew his mind was always thinking about things like these before this. He had told himself so many times that he should expect this to come back to finish what it started with him. He does not regret never feeling any better than he did during the 'normal' days he had. He had been given a chance to live a 'normal' life for a time. There is nothing else he could have asked for. There should be nothing he should be complaining about.

Now all that has haunted him in his imagination all along has become reality, why does the pain of this happening bite so deep when it is something he expected and accepted all along?

But…

But… if he could just…_fight_, figuratively speaking, for his own dignity for once.

"W-wait!"

* * *

><p><em>[March, 2009. Monday]<em>

_I just had a very tiring and shocking day today. So let's not waste words and just get right on to it. _

_It's about 2 a.m., and I was ready to sleep after taking care of the faulty water heater. The inn was so full, I could not even catch a break today. I went out to the cool air at the backyard to stretch before going to bed, but I smelled this strong smell of blood. If you have come from my experience, that smell would just snap you alert all over. I quickly looked around and saw something moving under the rather large patch of mustard flowers we have back there and I found someone._

_It was too dark to see much, but I quickly swung his arm over my shoulder and dragged him upstairs. At that moment I felt like vomiting. That guy smelled like stale meat cooked in gasoline!_

_There's no hospital anywhere in this town yet so I brought him to my room and laid him on my bed. I turned the light on and I almost puked. I can't describe to you enough how bad he looked on paper. He was bleeding all over. I think some kind of yellow bodily fluid was leaking off him too. When I braved myself to look at him clearly, much of his blonde hair still clean and intact. Call me weird, but the first impression it gave me was that he got burnt at a stake. Scold me for my wild imagination, but it really looked that way. If his hair is soaked through with gas but it's not clumped together from burning, yet his whole body is charred from the bottom, I don't think it's some kind of explosion or accident. No, sir. For a while I thought he was the Angry Man, but he wasn't that tall so I threw that idea out the window. Why of all times did I even thought of him then? Blonds leave such impressions._

_I took off his burnt clothes, and I dragged the guy by pulling the sheets and comforter under him and somehow just managed to drag the whole lug to the shower. I took the big bottle of olive oil and that corn flour, something Mom did when I got caught in grease once. Since he had open wounds, I made sure the water was warm but only very mildly. Basically it's covering the wounds with the flour so it sucks up the grease and then shower, pat him dry, repeat, and then for the final touch, drench his whole body in olive oil and wash him with natural body soap. Now he's smell, ash, and oil-free. I have to admit he's very strong for just groaning softly throughout the ordeal while being half-conscious all the time. Better than a guy screaming his lungs out and frightening our lodgers, I suppose._

_Even when my room's closet is an extra storage for the clean laundry, like bathrobes and extra bedsheets, he's using up a lot of clean towels. I covered the bed with new sheets and some towels and somehow managed to drag him to the bed. I never felt more accomplished in my life, getting someone so injured and dirty so clean. Some of his wounds are still bleeding though, so I applied medicine and tied bandages around them. He has a lot of injuries and they are not light or pretty at all: like that gash on his inner thigh and another one on his arm. He seemed to have been beaten up because all his stomach has been bashed black and blue. But it I'm still surprised that his injuries don't look that bad like I thought it would be. _

_I guessed that maybe he needs sustenance or additional treatment of some sort, so I went to my drawer and got something I haven't touched for a long time – A health drink I got from either my hometown or…that place, I don't really remember from which. I have kept these just in case they might be needed, but I don't even want to drink a drip of them myself. I held it to his lips and he drank it slowly. I can't really give him any solid food because it even hurts for him to sit up with that abdomen of his. Apart from all that I really don't know what else to do. I laid him down and told him I was sorry I couldn't do more, and that this is a small town and there are no cars to drive him to any hospital. I asked him to go to sleep. Somehow he's just going to survive this. I mean, I don't know why I thought like that but I just know it. Even if he doesn't, we're not having our first vehicle around this town until this town's made enough money for the descendants to cut a share out to us to buy one, and the only vehicles we had were theirs, and they've driven out of town two days ago after checking on the place. Those merchandise stock trucks had only just left for the month too. I know everyone handles their business themselves no matter how hard it is around here, but now with an injury this severe right in front of you, you'll start to take the stories of people driving for hours to the city for treatment seriously. Now that I think of it, it's totally ridiculous that a hospital or even a clinic was not their first priority when setting up this town. Maybe they just wanted to make money. After all, the first thing that the Shelley's founders' descendants did was setting up town landmarks, attraction sites, and lodgings. What did you expect?_

_For a tired guy I do write a lot. Excitement does wonders to you. I think I have not felt this in a long, long time._

_ After shower _

_So I took out some of the bigger clothes that Jake had sold to me for a cheap price because he just wants to get rid of it while he got his new stock. I had money, he's OK, I'm OK, so I bought them. I didn't expect that they were going to be used at any time at all. I chose an almost black blue long sleeve buttoned shirt and a pair of jeans. I put it at the middle of the bed, beside of him. And just between you and I though? Aside from having a tall body and long legs, He's, well….HUGE. I guess it's because of his big sized body? I covered that part with a towel and covered him with a fresh blanket. This man has a head of blond hair (clean now, thanks to me). But aside from that, I'm too tired to notice anything else so I went for a very brief shower and now I'm done with that and after being done with you, I'm most probably going to bed with wet hair. I'm just too tired, especially after a hot shower (refer to sub-title above?). Too bad I've got water all over you. But ruggedness is not out of my style; live with it. _

_Let's just hope he'll not be a dead body beside me tomorrow. But you know better that I am not afraid of that, don't you?_

* * *

><p>"Now you are going to tell me. Everything. Let's start with who you are, and who you're working for."<p>

If the man was not guilty of anything, he sure was looking very nervous for it. Chris had his trusty handgun in his white coat just in case this person was about to do something.

Something doesn't seem right…

He trusted his instincts. He really did. It didn't seem like someone who would try anything such as kidnapping anybody. No muscle, no posture, and certainly looked like someone with no guts to do something he was part of. But of course: Trust no one – quoted from a someone named Jill Valentine.

With answers not going further than the letter "I" and a zipped up mouth, Chris remembered his encounter in Blake's Lake and resumed to try a different approach. "Okay. Then tell me anything. Just anything just to calm you down." Calm down indeed. Not that an accomplice to kidnapping usually deserve that kind of privilege, but he's got to admit that it does wonders. _Alright then,_ Chris mused. _What is relaxing? _

He sat down at the wooden chair in at the desk, turning the direction of the chair slightly towards the man but not entirely. He figured that facing the man face-on was too confrontational. He sat slightly sideways of facing this man, and put the leather-covered book on the desk in front of him. He took an inaudible deep breath and sat back at the desk's armchair. "Start with anything that comes into your mind."

"I…" Just when he thought the man's going to go through the same song again, the man grabbed both sides of his head, covering part of his ears, as if blocking some bad consequence he helped to create. "I'm sorry…! I'm sorry! Alex Shepherd…it's all my fault!"

_Now aren't we getting somewhere. _Chris breathed. Finally. He knew Alex Shepherd's a good man. _I mean, I feel… I know- he's a good guy, right? Argh. Does it even matter? _He gave himself a light slap in his mind and breathed. It always worked. He breathed out. Get Alex Shepherd. Get him alive. Find out what the heck is going on around here. _Then_ get on with the investigation of the virus.

At that thought he wished he had not analyzed that because now he knew this mess was more than what he had bargained for. But yet, he couldn't just leave the guy like that; that was a no-brainer. He remembered that hypnosis session thing he did with the weird "doctor" in the dark room upstairs. That picture of the man carrying Alex over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes just did not sit well with him. Was Alex Shepherd saved by that man? Yes. Safe? Maybe. Not exactly. How much time did he have to find him? The time limit that's ticking on every mission is definitely a factor, but the B.S.A.A. soldier is trained to go on despite that without letting that weigh down his resolve.

_But still…_

_Why do I…_

Something burns the sour taste in his throat. Uneasiness, omen and fear. No, it's not just fear.

His subconscious shouted to him that he knew what this was, but he won't acknowledge it.

"A-Are you okay?" A timid male voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"The one that's supposed to worry about that is you." Chris instantly regretted the tone that escaped his mouth. "Sorry. I don't mean to snap at you. I…"

"I-its okay…" the man lowered his head, pale brown bangs covering his blushing face. _This person would never make it in a bar for a drink_, Chris thought. He looked like the shy kind that's borderline socially awkward.

_And these kinds…I don't know how to deal with these kinds of people._

"Err. Umm, okay. What do you need to know? It's all so crazy, I don't know where to start…"

_Crap._

* * *

><p><em>[April, 2009, Tuesday]<em>

_Hey, I'm writing this in the next morning here, and he's lying on the bed resting now as I write. He had already worn the clothes I had laid for him yesterday when I woke up. And may I say it looks good on him. I'm really glad those larger clothes came in handy. It would be a waste to just leave them there. It's funny isn't it? It's like playing dress-up doll like Scarlet used to. It might actually be kind of fun._

_Shit. Damn any thoughts I have are of that place._

_By the way, the first blink to the morning was kind of embarrassing. He was looking at me, fully dressed when I slept, and I only remembered that I haven't worn anything stood up with the morning breeze hitting me everywhere. I panicked and pulled the covers around me while apologizing all the while. I know we're both men, but I have to admit, that seeing him looking so smart and poised in those clothes the first thing in the morning sends shame down to my very core - Even if I had my best clothes on, I will still never be able look that smart! And there I was, naked in front of him like an ape on a tree. He puts all men to shame with that quality of professionalism about him. He has blond hair, and he has these blue eyes that looked as if they are shining! He's not young…but I wonder how old he is. Late 20s? 30? 40? 50? I don't know. He looks…immortal? If I get older, will I be able to get that kind of air about me too? Or is it just a kind of aura city people or educated people get? Man, God is really teasing me by pushing male blonds into my way while all I want is Elle who decides to distance herself from me for some reason. Fate's a real bitch sometimes, huh?_

_He doesn't smile at all, and he hasn't said a single word yet. I'm the one who suggested if he wanted to use the bathroom and he just nodded. I had to help him into the bathroom and he nodded again to my question of if he wanted to be alone in there. I changed the bloodied bedsheets. I'm quite worried, but then if he could dress himself without my help, I guess he would be fine. I was too tired to notice the extent of his injuries after I cleaned him anyway. Seeing him using the clothes that I have left for him just lightens me up. It's like I've done something right for once, you know. I just hope he will be okay. I have about four shirts and three pants. That should be enough for him until the cars come back in about two week's time when the descendants come back to check on things. Oh, and I can do laundry with the washing machine in my own bathroom too, so he'll never run out anyway. Seriously it's like a mini-apartment here, minus a kitchen. If I scorned about the developers of this town for not building clinics, this inn I'll have to give them my thumbs up. Well, my room deserves it, at least. Any city-dweller would kill to have this place in this environment. The only thing missing here would be all the modern tech-y stuff._

_And just for the fun of it, my friend, only you and I will ever know this. The crowd was asleep, I didn't want risk upsetting them with a bloody body, and _ _Avon_ _ can blame himself for missing the action; he' sound asleep in the laundry room when all this happened. But I'll let him pass for not manning the midnight shift at the counter this time. He's been working hard yesterday to cater to a full house anyway (one of the reasons I can't put Tall Man into any other room). And Elle…I don't think she wants to hear about any bloody things anytime soon. Maybe I'll just keep this to myself. It'll be fun. _

_Besides, it's like Elle and me are just taking each other's company for granted here, you know? Especially after we went through, you would think that we should stick together even more. Well, instead, it works this way: she knows I'm here and I know she exists and we're just comforted like that. Maybe if we talk to each other at all it will remind us of the nightmares that happened at home? That means we never mention anything about it. Just random conversations out of the blue. Like the casual "Are you OK?" that we know it meant something more than just a greeting, and like those random times when we met on the porch, she kept insisting that I'm strong and all that. But she's the stronger one here. I want to talk to her like before. We had even shared a laugh when going to you-know-where. She may not remember it, but it meant a lot to me. It showed that she was such a strong girl even when the town was turning into a shithole. It's not the same now. She just avoids talking to me so much now it's not funny. Now that I think about it, is she avoiding me because of what happened to her mother? Does she know about that? _

_Or maybe I'm just imagining too much? She may have never found out, and she's just depressed at her mother's true nature. I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore._

_I know where I'm going with this if I don't stop writing, so I will. This is getting depressing._

_And I don't want to admit this, but all this work yesterday has taken a strain on my body. My joints hurt and I feel like every pore in my body is opened. I think I'm going to fall sick._

* * *

><p>The light thumps on the floorboards gave him a weird sense of comfort as he paced around the room.<p>

He rubbed his eyelids with frustration, sighing loudly at all these… outrageous _crap_. "I swear, if you're lying to me-"

"See? I knew it." Distinct disappointment and just the tone of "I'm totally turned off" hit Chris like a ton of bricks. Was he wrong again? But…how was _this_ even believable? "I know you wouldn't believe me"

_Ah…_

Chris jerked back, almost by a subconscious reflex.

_Oh my God._

The very same pattern he had heard in that bedroom in Blake's Lake.

_"I knew you wouldn't believe me" _

_"You don't believe in monsters and demons, do you!"_

_"Forget it. I shouldn't even bring this up."_

But- if this is really true, but, _it can't be! _At most, it shouldn't be true _literally_, right? But then again who will say things like these if it is not literal?

_Is he **crazy**?_

* * *

><p><em>[April, 2009, Wednesday]<em>

_I don't want to write this down, but have to, or else I won't be able to go back to sleep. Tall Man can sleep with this dim light on._

_ I've dreamt about someone…or some THING, persistently, since the day I found this Tall Guy, I think. It's hard to explain…He, or it, was just standing at my window. Whenever it appeared my chest felt heavy and my heart almost feels like exploding. The doc once said this could be extreme fear that I can't control yet or he laughingly joked that it could be supernatural. _

_How does he look like: I can't see any face, limbs or anything, but it's clear that it's a black-hooded figure, most probably a guy. My window's at the lower-left side of my bed and I can see it when I look down lying down, right? I remember being drowsy and hot and steamy with sweat, or was I shivering too? I couldn't really move, and I saw him. It. He was just standing there like it's the most normal thing in the world, looking straight into my window. He's not moving. It's a hood, for sure, and you can't see his face at all. It's dark out and all, with only the moon and stars for light, not that it helped to light things up. I didn't remember feeling afraid at the first two nights, and then this time it came to me, and I remember saying out loud to myself: "Hey, but this is the second floor." Then as that thought came to my mind, I remember so clearly that black hooded head turned slowly, oh so slowly to face me._

_I freaked the fuck out. I screamed and all but I couldn't because in a split second my stomach kind of turned and I felt like vomiting. It felt like something reached into the further back of my mouth pressed my tongue down and made me swallow my own voice. I remembered my body arching up and down on the bed because I just couldn't move my body. I remember this thing retreating suddenly and I woke up screaming, waking up my guest beside me. Is this a nightmare? Is this sleep paralysis? Is this what they call a ghostly encounter? Wheeler's crazy UFO theory, even? _

_But whatever it was, why are my wrists bruised? Something WAS holding me down, right? I remember something wrapping around my hands and feet, and swirling up my legs, becoming tighter and tighter. God was it a ground octopus or something? Sure felt like it. I'm too scared to check my feet for marks or bruises, but I know the lingering pain is there. Are my dreams creeping up with the real world? Or am I just dreaming things because I'm getting sick? Or_

_No. It can't be. I can't. Let us just hope that what I've encountered has really been resolved. I mustn't think too much._

* * *

><p><em>[April, 2009, Thursday]<em>

_I was sick this morning, no doubt, but I'm better now in the night. But now my mouth can't taste anything, my body sweated itself dry, and normal water tastes awful. Wonderful. At least I'll be able to go around the place a bit and do some errands. _

_It's weird though. I slept in early, and I had a very odd dream. A hazy shadow was leaning above me when I slept and I felt shit-scared. My head was pinned down to the pillow. I couldn't move for the whole night. But at least it was not the usual where I keep falling into a dark vertigo. At least there was some footing. Something to hold on to. Some form of solidity._

_Either way, at least I'm firmly on my bed, you know. Then I seriously flipped out when I realized it was that hooded figure in my dream. He's IN the room. I tried screaming but absolutely nothing came out. I think I started to cried a little. I remembered thinking that I thought this dream was over but it continued. This figure was totally above me and I remember whispering that this must be a dream and I remember repeating "no" a gazillion times._

_Then it was this moment I keep having this feeling of someone saying, "Go back, leave." non-stop. It sounded like an echo in my head, maybe it was me saying it, I don't know. I woke up darting from the bed and that Tall Man was already up, and I could see his dark figure already sat up against the headboards, looking towards where I was and I can feel him looking at me with maybe a "What the fuck?" in his head. It was not him holding me down then? The window was wide open with the cold, strong wind running in, which was not a very good temperature for a sick body. I prefer the air conditioner. It makes noises like things very little things cluttering in a box when it's on. I'm told by the lodgers that modern ones in the city don't do that, but the sound doesn't bother them and gives them the "older, more natural feeling", whatever that means. But back to the story, I can't tell you how comforted I was that Tall Man was there. He did not just turn over and went to sleep. He did not scorn me for waking him up. He stayed sitting up until I went back and lay down on the bed for a while (after I apologized). Sure he seems unfriendly and all, but I really, really appreciated that. I just hope I could have seen his eyes to know that he was not actually annoyed with me. Yeah. It was dark._

_Did I dream again because of the cold air making my sickness worse? I know enough that I'm more likely to dream stupid things when I'm sick. Should I start believing in dreams or should I just stop recording them down?_

_But if one thing logical about this is worth noting down, it should be the doc's analysis or some sort when I went to see him for this. He said that dreams are reflections of what we face in real life, especially when there is a drastic change. The fact that there's someone new living so closely to me in my life now is a big sudden change to my lifestyle and all, and I'm kind of amazed that he also didn't discount the horrible state I've found this man in could have shocked me somewhat to make me dream about horrifying things in the night. I was so fascinated and impressed. Well it makes so much sense now, doesn't it? Hopefully it's true, and hopefully the dreams will go away._

* * *

><p>"I'm...sorry…" He whispered, too scared to say it to him directly but voiced it loud enough to hopefully let him hear it. <em>I'm such a coward.<em>

"Wh-what is your name?" Glazed eyes looked right through his face as he laid the poor young bastard on his lap. He swallowed, and nodded reluctantly.

"A-are you…?" The man's so much in pain he couldn't recognize his head movements. Alex glanced down at the man's torso and looked away. "…Yeah." he swallowed without waiting for the full question for his conscience's sake. They cut open the skin on his belly and expose the guts. Thickening blood is still on the floor where the guy was standing and now that he has laid this guy's head on his lap, the coagulating blood on the skin is desperately trying to reattach itself where those sick bastards have cut it.

"It would help me make a good decision if you'll lower him down", he said. He was just trying to stop this young man's suffering of standing in a way that his guts would not fall out. Of course with that pain he was in, he was practically hanging from the chains on his hands. Coercion comes in many kinds, implied blackmail is one of them, but no one can even conceive of cutting open someone and mashing the blackmailed person's head into the victim's intestines; it is overdoing it. He had been drilled in the leg before, but this is taking it to a whole new level.

"A-are you my guardian angel?" A heat on his cheek made him look to this young guy who raised up his shaky hand to touch him. The young man's eyes are glazed and unfocused. Alex isn't sure if the man can even see his face at this point.

"I…" His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, unable to answer that question. If he answers "Yes", can he really do that? And if it's a "No", how will answering that even help?

"They say if I waited hard enough, you would come." A smile crept up on the face below him, stiff from all the blood loss and pain. "Are you here to end my pain?"

"Wha-? I..." A tinge of sourness came to his eyes, and it frightened him - both the question and what he was feeling. He could break all over again, and he does not want to allow himself to lose himself again and forget everything. And he knows where it took him the last time he lost it. "I…"

Suddenly, every hair on his body stood up. A tiny rustle, and he knows - They were not alone. He then felt a crushing feeling on his chest – it just came out of the blue. He heard it again…or maybe in the normal person's way of saying, he _felt_ it. It is like hearing something directly in his head, and 'feeling' that he's being watched. Like an omen before something really bad happens. Of course no one would believe him except for Wheeler, maybe, and he felt these sensations when he had certain nightmares, and he 'felt' something was coming for him at Blake's Lake about two times – Once when he was semi-blacked out from getting his waist crushed by a disgusting big guy and another time was when he was in the middle of trying to explain things to Agent Redfield. Sometimes he hears sounds that he cannot even begin to describe, sometimes he feels very short but coherent words, and a lot of the times, they just don't make sense.

This sensation was very, _very_ familiar. It made him panic when he felt it coming for him when he was trying to explain things to Agent Redfield. It was because he recognized it. He felt this much earlier than in Blake's Lake.

And now it's here.

His goosebumps stood harder still.

They are not alone here.

With much restraint to his curiosity, he finally lifted his head slightly and hurt his eye muscles glancing to the far corners of the cell.

And saw a shadow at the opening slot of the door where the hooded men went out from, and he focused in closer.

"Oh my _fucking_ Lord-"

That was not a dream.

They were not dreams

They were _never_ **fucking** dreams.

* * *

><p><em>[Still Wed. Woke up. 2:06a.m.]<em>

_The dream._

_Him. It._

_Won't end_

_At least it's only a dream_

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


End file.
